spoke again. "The sound comes, I think, sir, from a
place called Glendale--Glendale or Frayser's Farm."

"Yes, sir," said Jackson; "very probably."

The thunder never lessened. Artillery and infantry, Franklin's corps on
the south bank of White Oak, began again to pour an iron hail against
the opposing guns and the working party at the bridge, but in every
interval between the explosions from these cannon there rolled louder
and louder the thunder from Frayser's Farm. A sound like a grating wind
in a winter forest ran through the idle grey brigades. "It's A. P.
Hill's battle again!--A. P. Hill or Longstreet! Magruder and Huger and
Holmes and A. P. Hill and Longstreet--and we out of it again, on the
wrong side of White Oak Swamp! And they're looking for us to help--_Wish
I was dead!_"

The 65th Virginia had its place some distance up the stream, in a
tangled wood by the water. Facing southward, it held the extreme right;
beyond it only morass, tall trees, swaying masses of vine. On the left
an arm of the creek, thickly screened by tree and bush, divided it from
the remainder of the brigade. It rested in semi-isolation, and its ten
companies stared in anger at the narrow stream and the deep woods
beyond, listening to the thunder of Longstreet and A. P. Hill's
unsupported attack and the answering roar of the Federal 3d Army Corps.
It was a sullen noise, deep and unintermittent. The 65th, waiting for
orders, could have wept as the orders did not come. "Get across? Well,
if General Jackson would just give us leave to try!--Oh, hell! listen to
that!--Colonel, can't you do something for us?--Where's the colonel
gone?"

Cleave was beyond their vision. He had rounded a little point of land
and now, Dundee's hoofs in water, stood gazing at the darkly wooded
opposite shore. He stood a moment thus, then spoke to the horse, and
they entered the stream. It was not deep, and though there were
obstructions, old stakes and drowned brushwood, Cleave and Dundee
crossed. The air was full of booming sound, but there was no motion in
the wood into which they rose from the water. All its floor was marshy,
water in pools and threads, a slight growth of cane, and above, the tall
and solemn trees. Cleave saw that there was open meadow beyond.
Dismounting, he went noiselessly to the edge of the swamp. An open
space, covered with some low growth; beyond it a hillside. Wood and
meadow and hill, all lay quiet and lonely in the late sunlight.