his
Colonel threw his command flat on their stomachs until the storm should
slacken. John heard the shrill deadly swish of the big shots passing two
feet above.

He lifted his eyes to the hill and a frightened pigeon suddenly swooped
straight down toward his head. He ducked quickly, sure he had escaped a
cannon ball until the laugh of the man at his side told of his mistake.

They rose to charge. The knapsack of the man who had laughed was struck
by a ball and a deck of cards sent flying ten feet in the air.

"Deal me a winning hand!" John shouted.

A shot cut the sword belt of the first lieutenant, left him uninjured,
glanced and killed the captain. The lieutenant picked up his sword, took
his captain's place and led the charge.

Men were falling on the right and left and John Vaughan loaded and fired
with steady, dogged nerve without a scratch.

Four times the blue billows had dashed against the hills only to fall
back in red confusion. The din and roar were indescribable. The
color-bearer of the regiment confused by conflicting orders paused and
asked for instructions. The Colonel, mistaking his act for retreat,
tore the colors from his hand and gave them to another man. The boy
burst into tears. The new color-bearer had scarcely lifted the flag
above his head when he fell. The disgraced soldier snatched the
tottering flagstaff and, lifting it on high, dashed up the hill ahead of
his line of battle.

The men were ducking their heads low beneath the fierce hail of lead and
staggering blindly.

John saw this boy waving his flag and shaking his fist back at the
halting line. He was not a hundred feet from the Confederate trenches.

"Come on there!" he shouted. "Damn it, what's the matter with you?"

Ned Vaughan and his grey men behind the little mound of red dirt were
watching this drama with flashing eyes. Beside him crouched a boy whose
early piety had marked him for the ministry. But he had wandered from
the fold in the stress of army life. Ned heard his voice now in low,
eager prayer:

"O Lord, drive 'em back! Drive 'em back, O Lord!"

He fired his musket down the hill and prayed harder:

"Lord, drive 'em back! I've sinned and come short, but drive 'em, O
Lord!"

He paused and whispered to Ned as he reached for another cartridge:

"Are they comin' or goin'?"

"Coming!"

Again he prayed with fervor:

"Drive 'em back, Lord Goddermighty, we're weak and you're strong--help
us now! Drive 'em--jus