The cordon of cavalrymen, thousands in numbers, were making a furious, headlong charge. It was a magnificent, and an inspiring sight as well, to see that great body of horsemen in the bright clear sunshine galloping forward.
“Look! look at the Feds scramblin’ out o’ the trenches!” yelled Cranny, wildly. “They’re done for—it’s good-night for them.”
Squads of soldiers and citizen volunteers were already rushing up to reinforce their comrades. From the sharpshooters on the roof tops came volley after volley; but nothing which lay in their power could have stemmed that daring charge.
In the grip of a fascination that held them motionless, the three watched and waited in breathless suspense.
Now the cavalrymen were charging the outermost line of trenches and the breastworks to the south. Over the deep, zigzag pits their horses were leaping, floundering or struggling; some there were that stumbled and fell, and unaided could not rise again. And all this time the wild fierce yells, as foe met foe, could be clearly heard.
Resistless as an avalanche the great multitude swept on, while a continuous stream of brown-skinned men came pouring and tumbling out of the trenches, and, as panic-stricken as animals fleeing before the flames and smoke of a forest fire, dashed madly off for any haven of safety.
Soldiers with loaded guns forgot to fire. Many discarded their weapons as they ran. It was a spectacle of triumph on the one hand and utter demoralization on the other. The sudden and desperate nature of the assault crumpled up the Federals, and the great onrushing tide of men and horses threatened to engulf and overwhelm many of those who fled before them.
The very danger of the situation seemed to give the lads an almost unnatural calmness. They fully understood that to remain an instant longer was to run the greatest risk. In those terrible moments of turmoil and violence, nationality would not serve to protect them.
“To the hotel, boys!” shouted Bob. “And then——”
“What?” asked Tom, in solemn tones.