the
very crest of the slope. The firing was still distinctly audible here,
and the other half of the army was undoubtedly keeping the guerrillas
busy.

On the summit Dick gave his men another brief breathing spell, and then
they began their advance toward the battle. He threw in advance the best
of the sharpshooters and scouts, including Whitley, Shepard and Reed,
and then followed swiftly with the others. Half the distance and a man
behind a tree saw them, shouted, fired and ran toward the guerrillas.

Dick, knowing that concealment was no longer possible, cried to his
men to rush forward at full speed. A light, scattering fire met them.
Two or three were wounded but none fell, and the entire column swept on
at as much speed as the deep snow would allow, sending in shot after shot
from their own rifles at the guerrillas clustered along the crests and
slopes. The light was sufficient for them to take aim, and as they were
sharpshooters the fire was accurate and deadly.

Their shout of victory rose and swelled, and the mountain gave it back
in many echoes. Dick, feeling his responsibility, managed to keep cool,
but he continually shouted to his men to press on, knowing how full
advantage should be taken of a surprise. But they needed no urging.
Aflame with fire and zeal they charged upon the guerrillas, pulling the
trigger as fast as they could slip in the cartridges, and Slade and
Skelly, despite all their cunning and quickness, were unable to make a
stand against them.

A great shout came up from the valley. The moment Colonel Winchester
heard the fire on the flank he knew that his plan, executed with skill by
one of his lieutenants, was a success, and, gathering up his own force,
he crept up the slopes, his men sending their fire into the guerrillas,
who were already breaking.

Dick's troop was doing great damage. The guerrillas in their rovings and
robberies had never before faced such a fire and they fell fast, the deep
snow making flight difficult. Reed, who was at Dick's side, suddenly
uttered a cry.

"I see him! I see him!" he shouted.

The long-barreled cap-and-ball rifle leaped to his shoulder, and when the
stream of fire gushed from the muzzle, Leonard, the mountaineer, fell in
the snow and would never betray anybody else. Most of the guerrillas
were now fleeing in panic, and Dick heard the shrill, piercing notes of
Slade's whistle as he tried to draw his men off in order. For a moment
or