.

The officers waved their swords; they threatened the men; the men
calmly looked at their officers.

A man on a great horse rode up and down the line urging, gesticulating.
He got near to Haskell--

"Who _are_ you?" shouted our Captain.

"Captain Blount--quartermaster fourth North Carolina."

"We will follow you!" shouted Haskell.

Blount rode on his great horse--he rode to the centre of the
Thirtieth--he stooped; he seized the colour--he lifted the battle-flag
high in the air--he turned his great horse--he rode up the hill.

Then those men lying in the sunken road sprang to their feet, and
followed their flag fluttering in front, and made the world hideous
with yells.

And the red flag went down--and Blount was dead--and the great horse was
lying on his side and kicking the air--and the hill was gained.

The Thirtieth was disorganized by its advance. Another North Carolina
regiment came from the right rear. Haskell and his six were yet
unbroken; they joined the advancing regiment, keeping on its left, and
charged with it for another position. Believe it or not, the same thing
recurred; the regiment charged well; from the smoke in front death came
out upon it fast; a sunken road was to be crossed, and was not crossed;
down the men all went to save their lives.

And the officers waved their swords, and the men remained in the road.

Now the Captain called the six, and ran to the centre of the regiment;
he snatched the flag and rushed forward up the slope--he looked not
back, but forward.

The six were on the slope--the Captain was farthest forward--one of the
six fell--in falling his face was turned back--he saw that the regiment
was yet in the sunken road, and he shouted to his Captain and told him
that the regiment did not follow.

The Captain came back, and said tenderly, "Ah! Jones? What did I tell
you? Are you hurt badly? I will send for you."

Then the Captain and five turned away to the right, for the flag would
not be taken back to the regiment lying down.

On an open hill between the two battling hosts I was lying. The bullets
and shells came from front and rear. The blue men came on--and the
others went back awhile. I fired at the blue men, and tried to load, but
could not. I felt a great pain strike under my belt and was afraid to
look, for I knew the part was mortal. But at length I exerted my will,
and controlled my fear, and saw my trousers torn. My first wound had
deadened my leg, but