“If I do, I’ll let you know, uncle.”
“Charge bayonets! Double quick—march!” rang along the line.
“Have at them!” cried Tom, who was always the first to catch the orders of the commanding officer. “Down with them! Give ’em Yankee Doodle, Hail, Columbia, and the Red, White, and Blue.”
The advancing column, shaken by the furious fire of our regiment, recoiled before the shock. Slowly the foe fell back, leaving heaps of their slain upon the hotly-contested ground. Our boys halted, and poured in another destructive volley.
The Confederate officers rallied their men, and, maddened by the check they had received, drove them forward to recover the lost ground.
“Once more, boys! Give it to ’em again,” cried Tom, as the order to advance was repeated.
His words were only representations of his actions; for, as he spoke, he rushed on a little in front of his comrades, who, however, pressed forward to keep up with him. He did not exceed the orders of his superior, but he was one of the promptest to obey them. On dashed the regiment, and again the rebel line recoiled, and soon broke in spite of the admirable efforts of their officers to keep them steady.
“Kearney! Kearney! Kearney is here!” shouted the weary heroes in various parts of the field.
“Down with them!” roared Tom, as the inspiring words rang in his ears. “Down with them! Kearney has come, and the day is ours!”
He had scarcely uttered the words, and sprung forward, before he was seen to drop upon the ground, several paces in front of the line, though the undaunted old Hapgood was close by his side. The enemy had fled; the danger of being flanked was averted; and when Kearney’s men dashed on the field, the sad-hearted veteran, assisted by Fred Pemberton, bore the silent form of the gallant sergeant to the rear.