lver in the
other, and led the fight, rushing right up the hill, and, when near
enough, firing every barrel of his pistol. We took a few prisoners. Both
lines settled back to their first positions.

We had lost some men. A detail of infirmary people came from the rear to
carry off the wounded. Hutto had been shot badly. As four men lifted the
stretcher, one of them was killed, and Hutto rolled heavily to the
ground. Another of the litter bearers was shot, leaving but two; they
raised their stretcher in the air and moved it about violently. The
Yankees ceased firing.

The day had begun well, but we knew there was long and deadly work
ahead. We began to make protection. Low piles of rails, covered with
wheat-straw and earth dug up by bare hands, soon appeared along the
line. The protection was slight, yet by lying flat our bodies could not
be seen. On their side the Yankee skirmishers also had worked, and were
now behind low heaps of rails and earth. Practice-shooting began, and
was kept up without intermission for hour after hour.

We lay in the broiling sun. Orders came down the line for the men to be
sparing with water.

From my pit I could look back and see the cupola of the Seminary--could
see through the cupola from one window to the other. The Seminary was
General Lee's headquarters.

To our right and front was a large brick barn--the Bliss barn. Captain
Haskell had been killed by a bullet fired from this barn. It was five
hundred yards from the pits of Company A.

The Bliss barn was held by the Yankees. The skirmishers beyond the right
of the battalion charged and took it. A regiment advanced from the
Federal side, drove our men off, and occupied the barn. They began to
enfilade the pits of Company A. All the while, we were engaged in front.

A shot from the barn killed Sergeant Rhodes. Orders came down the line
for me to take his place at the right of the company.

Since the day before, I had thought that I had one friend in Company
A--Rhodes. Now Rhodes was dead.

We fired at the men who showed themselves at the barn--right oblique
five hundred yards.

We fired at the skirmishers behind the rail piles in front--two hundred
yards.

A man in a pit opposite mine hit my cartridge-box. I could see him
loading. His hand was in the air. I saw him as low as his shoulder. I
took good aim. A question arose in my mind--and again I thought of the
Captain: Am I angry with that man? Do I feel any hatred of him?