at next? Oh! our skirmishers
are falling back."

"They are going to attack," said Haskell, "and can they mean our whole
line--or where?"

The cannoneers were called to their pieces, and silently expectant the
little group waited on the fateful hour, while the orderly quiet of
discipline was to be seen on the Crest. The field-glasses of the officers
were searching with intense interest the more and more visible vale.

"Pretty plain now, Gibbon," said Hunt.

"Yes, we are in for it."

"They are forming," said Penhallow. A line appeared from the low swell of
ground in front of Lee's position--then a second and a third. Muskets and
bayonets flashed in the sun.

"Can you make out their flags?" asked Gibbon, "or their numbers?"

"Not the flags." He waited intent, watchful. No one spoke--minute after
minute went by. At last Penhallow answered. "A long line--a good half
mile--quite twelve thousand--oh, more--more. Now they are advancing _en
echelon_."

To left, to right, along our lines was heard the thud, thud, of the
ramrods, and percussion-cap boxes were slid around the waist to be handy.
Penhallow and others drew their pistols. The cannon were now fully
replaced, the regimental flags unrolled, and on the front line, long
motionless, the trefoil guidons of the two divisions of the Second Corps
fluttered feebly. The long row of skirmishers firing fell back more and
more rapidly, and came at last into our lines.

Penhallow said, turning to Gibbon, "They have--I think--they have no
supporting batteries--that is strange." Haskell and Gibbon had gone as he
spoke and the low crest was free at this point of all but the artillery
force. To left, the projecting clump of trees and the lines of the Second
Corps--all he could see--were ominously quiet.

Gibbon came back to the crest. He said, "We may need backing if they
concentrate on us; here our line is too thin." And still the orderly grey
columns came on silently, without their usual charging-yell.

"Ah!" exclaimed Penhallow without lowering his glass, as he gazed to our
left. The clamour of cannon broke out from little Round Top.

"Rifles!" exclaimed Gibbon. "Good!" Their left made no reply, but seemed
to draw away from the fire.

"I can see no more," said the Colonel, "but they stopped at the
Emmitsburg road."

The acrid odour of musketry drifted across the field as he turned to
gaze at the left wing of the fast coming onset. Far to our right they
came under the