regiment
had joined.

"What d' ye see, honey?" called out Aunt Debby. She was becoming very
fearful that she would die before the victory was won.

"Our people," answered Rachel, "seem to be concentrating in front of
Breckenridge. There must be a division over there. Breckenridge sees
it, and his cannon are firing at our men. He is bringing men up at
the double quick." She stopped, for a spasm of fear in regard to Harry
choked her.

"Go on, honey. What are they doing now?"

"Our men have formed a long line, reaching from the river up to the
woods. They begin to march forward. Breckenridge opens more guns. They
cut lanes through them. Now the infantry begins firing. A cloud of smoke
settles down and hides both sides. I can see no more. O my God, our
men are running. The whole line comes back out of the smoke, with men
dropping at every step. If Harry were only safely out of there, I'd give
my life."

Aunt Debby groaned. "Look again, honey," she said after a moment's
pause.

"It's worse than ever. Breckenridge's men are swarming out of their
works. There seems to be a myriad of them. They cover the whole hillside
until I can not see the ground. They yell like demons, and drive our men
down into the river. They follow them to the water's edge and shoot them
down in the stream. Ah, there goes a battery on the gallop to the hill
in front of us. It has opened on the Rebels, and its shells dig great
holes in the black masses, but the Rebels still come on. There goes
another battery on the gallop. It has opened. There is another. Still
another. They are galloping over here from every direction."

"Glory!" shouted Aunt Debby.

"There's a fringe of trees near the water's edge, whose tops reach
nearly tot he top of the hill. The cannon shots tear the branches off
and dash down the great ranks of Rebels with them."

"The arth rocks as when He lays his finger upon hit," said Aunt Debby.

The ground was trembling under the explosion of the fifty-eight pieces
of artillery which Rosencrans hastily massed at four o'clock Friday, for
the relief of his overpowered left. "What's them that go 'boo-woo-woo,'
like great big dogs barkin'?"

"Those are John Mendenhall's big Napoleons," said a wounded artillery
officer. "Go on, Miss. What now?"

"The Rebels have stopped coming on. They are apparently firing back. The
shells and the limbs of the trees still break their lines and tear them
to pieces. Now our men dash across the riv