m Fitz Hugh, was struck by a shot. The
solid trunk, nearly three feet in diameter, parted asunder as if it were
the brittlest of vegetable matter. The upper portion started aside with
a monstrous groan, dropped in a standing posture to the earth, and then
toppled slowly, sublimely prostrate, its branches crashing and all its
leaves wailing. Ere long, a little further to the front, another Anak of
the forest went down; and, mingled with the noise of its sylvan agony,
there arose sharp cries of human suffering. Then Colonel Colburn, a
broad-chested and ruddy man of thirty-five, with a look of indignant
anxiety in his iron-gray eyes, rode up to the brigade commander.

"This is very annoying, Colonel," he said. "I am losing my men without
using them. That last tree fell into my command."

"Are they firing toward our left?" asked Waldron.

"Not a shot."

"Very good," said the chief, with a sigh of contentment. "If we can only
keep them occupied in this direction! By the way, let your men lie down
under the fallen tree, as far as it will go. It will protect them from
others."

Colburn rode back to his regiment. Waldron looked impatiently at his
watch. At that moment a fierce burst of line firing arose in front,
followed and almost overborne by a long-drawn yell, the scream of
charging men. Waldron put up his watch, glanced excitedly at Fitz Hugh,
and smiled.

"I must forgive or forget," the latter could not help saying to himself.
"All the rest of life is nothing compared with this."

"Captain," said Waldron, "ride off to the left at full speed. As soon as
you hear firing at the shoulder of the ridge, return instantly and let
me know."

Fitz Hugh dashed away. Three minutes carried him into perfect peace,
beyond the whistling of ball or the screeching of shell. On the right
was a tranquil, wide waving of foliage, and on the left a serene
landscape of cultivated fields, with here and there an embowered
farm-house. Only for the clamor of artillery and musketry far behind
him, he could not have believed in the near presence of battle, of blood
and suffering and triumphant death. But suddenly he heard to his right,
assaulting and slaughtering the tranquillity of nature, a tumultuous
outbreak of file firing, mingled with savage yells. He wheeled, drove
spurs into his horse, and flew back to Waldron. As he re-entered the
wood he met wounded men streaming through it, a few marching alertly
upright, many more crouching and g