ss.
In front of them swarmed the skirmishers, eager, active fellows leaping
from rock to rock and from tree to tree.

Dick foresaw that the second charge would not fail. Its numbers were so
great that it would at least enter the pass and hold the mouth of it.
Already a mighty cannonade was pouring a storm of death over the heads
of the skirmishers toward the defenders, and the brigades came on
steadily and splendidly to the continued rolling of the drums.

Dick rose up again, watching now for his enemy who, he knew, could not
remain much longer behind the rock, as he would soon be within range of
the Northern skirmishers advancing on that side.

He fancied that he could hear the massive tread of the thousands coming
toward the pass, and the roll of the drums, distinct amid the roar of
the cannon, told him that his comrades would soon be at hand, driving
everything before them. But his eyes were for that big rock on the other
side of the valley. Now was his time for revenge upon the sharpshooter
who had sought his life with such savage persistence. The Northern
skirmishers were drawing nearer and the fellow must flee or die.

Suddenly the sharpshooter sprang from the rock, and up flew Dick's rifle
as he drew a bead straight upon his heart. Then he dropped the weapon
with a cry of horror. Across the valley and through the smoke he
recognized Harry Kenton, and Harry Kenton looking toward his enemy
recognized him also.

Each threw up his hand in a gesture of friendliness and farewell--the
roar of the battle was so loud now that no voice could have been heard
at the distance--and then they disappeared in the smoke, each returning
to his own, each heart thrilling with a great joy, because its owner had
always missed the sharpshooter behind the stone.

The impression of that vivid encounter in the pass was dimmed for a
while for Dick by the fierceness of the fighting that followed. The
defense had the advantage of the narrow pass and the rocky slopes,
and numbers could not be put to the most account. Nevertheless, the
Confederates were pressed back along the gap, and when night came the
Union army was in full possession of its summit.

But at the other gap the North had not achieved equal success.
Longstreet, marching thirteen miles that day, had come upon the field in
time, and when darkness fell the Southern troops still held their ground
there. But later in the night Hill and Longstreet, through fear of being
cut of