trees filled with
sharpshooters--masking a hastily thrown up earthwork. The regiment was
reserving its fire and losing heavily. An elderly man led it, riding a
large old steady horse. "That's Ex-Governor Smith," said the regiment in
the wood. "That's Extra Billy! He's a corker! Next time he runs he's
going to get all the votes--"

The regiment tried twice to pass the abattis, but each time fell back.
The brigadier had ordered it not to fire until it was past the trees; it
obeyed, but sulkily enough. Men were dropping; the colour-bearer went
down. There was an outcry. "Colonel! we can't stand this! We'll all get
killed before we fire a shot! The general don't know how we're fixed--"
Extra Billy agreed with them. He rose in his stirrups, turned and nodded
vigorous assent. "Of course you can't stand it, boys! You oughtn't to be
expected to. It's all this infernal tactics and West P'int tomfoolery!
Damn it, fire! and flush the game!"

Edward laughed. From the fuss it was apparent that the abattis and
earthwork had succumbed. At any rate, the old governor and his regiment
were gone. He was of the colour-guard, and all the colour-guard were
laughing. "Didn't you ever see him go into battle with his old blue
umbrella up! Trotting along same as to a caucus--whole constituency
following! Fine old political Roman! Look out, Yedward! Whole pine tree
coming down."

The scene changed again, and it was the side of a ravine, with a fine
view of the river and with Morell and Couch blazing somewhere above. The
shells went overhead, bellowing monsters charging a grey battery on a
hillock and a distant line of troops. "That's Pegram--that battery,"
said some one. "He does well." "Has any one any idea of the time?" asked
another. "Sun's so hidden there's no guessing. Don't believe we'll ever
see his blessed light again."

A fisherman from the Eastern Shore stated that it was nearly five
o'clock. "Fogs can't fool me. Day's drawing down, and tide's going
out--"

The lieutenant-colonel appeared. "Somebody with an order has been shot,
coming through the cornfield toward us. Three volunteers to bring him
in!"

Edward and the Eastern Shore man and a lean and dry and middle-aged
lawyer from King and Queen bent their heads beneath their shoulders and
plunged into the corn. All the field was like a miniature abattis,
stalk and blade shot down and crossed and recrossed in the wildest
tangle. To make way over it was difficult enough, and befo