oung rider was partly protected by his body from the
hoofs that thundered over them. Horse and rider rose together. Harry
found that the reins were still clenched in his hand. His horse was
trembling all over from shock, and so was he, but neither was much
harmed. Beyond him the great cavalry division was galloping on, and
he gazed at it a moment or two in a kind of stupor. But he became
conscious that the fire of the Southern skirmishers on its flank was
growing heavier and that many horses without riders were running loose
through the forest.

Then his gaze turned back to the little band that had stood in the path
of the whirlwind, and he uttered a cry of joy as he saw Sherburne rising
slowly to his feet, the blood flowing from a wound in his left shoulder.

"It isn't much, Harry," said the captain. "It was only the point of the
sabre that grazed me, but my horse was killed, and the shock of the fall
stunned me for a moment or two. Oh, my poor troop!"

There was good cause for his lament. Less than one-fourth of his brave
horsemen were left unhurt or with but slight wounds. The wounded who
could rise were limping away toward the thickets, and the unwounded
were seeking their mounts anew. Harry caught a riderless horse. His
faculties were now clear and the effect of the physical shock had passed.

"We held 'em three minutes at least, Captain," he cried, "and it may
be that three minutes were enough. We were surprised, but we are not
beaten. Here, jump up! We've saved the guns from capture! And listen
how the rifle fire is increasing."

Sherburne sprang into the saddle and his little band of surviving
troopers gathered around him. They uttered a shout, too, as they saw
heavy forces of their own cavalry coming up and charging, sabre in hand.
Inspired by the sight and forgetting his wound, Sherburne wheeled about
and led his little band in a charge upon the Northern flank.

A desperate battle with sabres ensued. Forest and open rang with shouts
and the clash of steel, and hundreds of pistols flashed. The Northern
horsemen were driven back. Davis, who led them here, a Southerner by
birth, but a regular officer, a man of great merit, seeking to rally
them, fell, wounded mortally. A strong body of Illinois troops came up
and turned the tide of battle again. The Southern horsemen were driven
back. Some of them were taken prisoners and a part of Stuart's baggage
became a Northern prize.

This porti