I ain't sayin' nothin', nothin' at all!"

Drew grinned. "That's being wise, Will. Times when a man can talk
himself right out of a good piece of luck. It's hot and fillin', and you
got bacon to give it some taste...."

With hot food under their belts, a fire, and no sign of orders to move,
they were content. Kirby and Croff followed the old Plains trick of
raking aside the fire, leaving a patch of warmed earth on which all four
could curl up together, two men sharing blankets. As the Texan squirmed
into place beside him Drew felt the added warmth of the plundered coat
Kirby pulled over them. This had not been too bad a day after all, or
rather yesterday had not; it was now not too far before dawn. They had
made their play at Anthony's Hill and had come out of it with horses,
some food, and a few incidental comforts like this coat. Now after
eating, they had a chance to sleep. It seemed that Forrest was going to
pull it off neatly again. Drowsily Drew watched the rekindled fire. They
would make it, after all.

He awoke to find a thick white cotton of fog enfolding the bivouac. The
preparations they had made again of rail and tree breastworks to greet
the Union advance were no easier to see than the men crouched in their
shadows. It would be a blind battle if Wilson's pursuit caught up before
this cleared; one would only be able to tell the enemy by his position.

But there was no hanging back on the part of the Yankees that morning.
Slowly, maybe blindly, but with determination, they were picking their
way ahead, reaching the creek bank. If they could cut through Forrest's
present lines, thrust straight ahead, they could smash the demoralized
straggle of Hood's main command, and the Army of the Tennessee would
cease to exist.

The blue coats were shadows in the fog, the first advance wading the
creek now, their rifles held high. And as that line closed up and
solidified into a wall of men, a burst of flame met them face-on. It was
brutal, almost one-sided. The Yankees were on their feet, pacing into a
country they could not clearly distinguish. While their opponents had
"picked trees" and were firing from shelter with accuracy to tear huge
gaps in that line.

Men stopped, fired, then broke, running back to the creek for the safety
which might lie beyond that wash of icy water. And as they went, ranks
of the defenders rose and raced after them, hooting and calling as if on
some holiday hunt. Now the cavalry moved in