round and guns were lost,
but they made their enemy pay high for everything, and the slow retreat
never became a panic.

"We're going back," shouted Warner in Dick's ear. "Yes, we're going
back, but we'll come forward again. They'll never crush the old man."

Yet the pressure upon them never ceased. Bragg and his staff had the
right idea. Had anyone but Thomas stood before them they would have
shattered the Union left long since, but his slow, calm mind rose to its
greatest heights in the greatest danger. He understood everything and
he was resolved that his wing should not be broken. Wherever the line
seemed weakest he thrust in a veteran regiment, and he went quickly back
and forth, observing with a measuring eye every shift and change of the
battle.

The Winchester regiment in its new position was still among the gullies
and bushes, and they were thankful for such shelter. Although veterans
now, most were lads, and they did not scorn to take cover whenever they
could. For a little while they did not reply to the enemy's fire, but
lay waiting and seeking to get back the breath which seemed to be driven
from their bodies by the very violence of the concussion. Shrapnel,
grape and canister whistled incessantly over their heads, and on either
flank the thunder of the battle swelled rapidly.

The Southern attack was spreading along the whole front, and it was made
with unexampled vigor. It even excelled the fiery rush at Stone River,
and the generals on both sides were largely the same that had fought the
earlier great battle. Polk, the bishop-general, still led one wing for
the South, Buckner massed Kentuckians who faced Kentuckians on the other
side, and Longstreet and Hill were to play their great part for the
South. Resolved to win a victory, the veteran generals spared nothing,
and the little Chickamauga, so singularly named by the Indians "the
river of death," was running red.

Dick crouched lower as the storm of shells swept over him. Despite all
his experience impulse made him bow his head while the whistling death
passed by. He felt a little shame that he, an officer, should seek
protection, but when he stole a look he saw that all the others, Colonel
Winchester included, were doing the same. Sergeant Whitley had sunk down
the lowest of them all, and, catching Dick's glance, he said in clear,
low tones audible under the storm:

"Pardon me for saying it to you, an officer, Mr. Mason, but it's
our business n