attalion was retiring it, also, was assailed
in flank by a mounted charge of the First Virginia cavalry, which was
met and driven back by the other battalion of the Fifth Michigan led by
Colonel Alger.

Then, as it seemed, the two belligerent forces paused to get their
second breath. Up to that time, the battle had raged with varying
fortune. Victory, that appeared about to perch first on one banner, and
then on the other, held aloof, as if disdaining to favor either. The
odds, indeed, had been rather with the confederates than against them,
for Stuart managed to out-number his adversary at every critical point,
though Gregg forced the fighting, putting Stuart on his defense, and
checkmating his plan to fight an offensive battle. But the wily
confederate had kept his two choicest brigades in reserve for the
supreme moment, intending then to throw them into the contest and sweep
the field with one grand, resistless charge.

[Illustration: LUTHER S. TROWBRIDGE]

All felt that the time for this effort had come, when a body of mounted
men began to emerge from the woods on the left of the confederate line,
northeast of the Rummel buildings, and form column to the right as they
debouched into the open field. Squadron after squadron, regiment after
regiment, orderly as if on parade, came into view, and successively took
their places.

Then Pennington opened with all his guns. Six rifled pieces, as fast as
they could fire, rained shot and shell into that fated column. The
effect was deadly. Great gaps were torn in that mass of mounted men, but
the rents were quickly closed. Then, they were ready. Confederate
chroniclers tell us there were two brigades--eight regiments--under
their own favorite leaders. In the van, floated a stand of colors. It
was the battle-flag of Wade Hampton, who with Fitzhugh Lee was leading
the assaulting column. In superb form, with sabers glistening, they
advanced. The men on foot gave way to let them pass. It was an inspiring
and an imposing spectacle, that brought a thrill to the hearts of the
spectators on the opposite slope. Pennington double-shotted his guns
with canister, and the head of the column staggered under each
murderous discharge. But still it advanced, led on by an imperturbable
spirit, that no storm of war could cow.

Meantime, the Fifth Michigan had drawn aside a little to the left,
making ready to spring. McIntosh's squadrons were in the edge of the
opposite woods. The Seventh w