fty rifles, and a
deadly screech of bullets. But the smoke rolled out, the haste to reload
was intense, and none could mark what execution was done. Whatever the
Confederates may have suffered, they bore up under the volley, and
they came on. In another minute each of those fences, not more than
twenty-five yards apart, was lined by the shattered fragment of a
regiment, each firing as fast as possible into the face of the other.

The Fifth bled fearfully: it had five of its ten company commanders shot
dead in three minutes; and its loss in other officers and in men fell
scarcely short of this terrible ratio. On its left the Seventh and the
Tenth were up, pouring in musketry, and receiving it in a fashion hardly
less sanguinary. No one present had ever seen, or ever afterward saw,
such another close and deadly contest.

But the strangest thing in this whole wonderful fight was the conduct
of the brigade commander. Up and down the rear of the lacerated Fifth
Waldron rode thrice, spurring his plunging and wounded horse close to
the yelling and fighting file-closers, and shouting in a piercing voice
encouragement to his men. Stranger still, considering the character
which he had borne in the army, and considering the evil deed for which
he was to account on the morrow, were the words which he was distinctly
and repeatedly heard to utter. "Stand steady, men--God is with us!" was
the extraordinary battle-cry of this backslidden clergyman, this sinner
above many.

And it was a prophecy of victory. Bradley ran up his Napoleons on the
right in the nick of time, and, although only one of them could be
brought to bear, it was enough; the grape raked the Confederate left,
broke it, and the battle was over. In five minutes more their whole
array was scattered, and the entire position open to galloping cavalry,
seizing guns, standards, and prisoners.

It was in the very moment of triumph, just as the stubborn Southern line
reeled back from the fence in isolated clusters, that the miraculous
immunity of Waldron terminated, and he received his death wound. A
quarter of an hour later Fitz Hugh found a sorrowful group of officers
gazing from a little distance upon their dying commander.

"Is the Colonel hit?" he asked, shocked and grieved, incredible as the
emotion may seem.

"Don't go near him," called Gildersleeve, who, it will be remembered,
knew or guessed his errand in camp. "The chaplain and surgeon are there.
Let him alone.