stand. He fought
as a skirmisher. When the Rebels advanced, he could not retire with the
troops, but continued to fight. After the battle he was found dead upon
the field, six bullets having passed through his body.

One bright-eyed little fellow, of the Second Iowa, had his foot crushed
by a cannon-shot. Two of his comrades carried him to the rear. An
officer saw that, unless the blood was stopped, he never would reach the
hospital. He told the men to tie a handkerchief around his leg, and put
snow on the wound.

"O, never mind the foot, Captain," said the brave fellow. "We drove the
Rebels out, and have got their trench; that's the most I care for!" The
soldiers did as they were directed, and his life was saved.

There in the trenches was a Rebel soldier with a rifle-shot through his
head. He was an excellent marksman, and had killed or wounded several
Union officers. One of Colonel Birges's sharpshooters, an old hunter,
who had killed many bears and wolves, crept up towards the breastworks
to try his hand upon the Rebel. They fired at each other again and
again, but both were shrewd and careful. The Rebel raised his hat above
the breastwork,--whi----z! The sharpshooter out in the bushes had put a
bullet through it. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Rebel, sending his own
bullet into the little puff of smoke down in the ravine. The Rocky
Mountain hunter was as still as a mouse. He knew that the Rebel had
outwitted him, and expected the return shot. It was aimed a little too
high, and he was safe.

"You cheated me that time, but I will be even with you yet," said the
sharpshooter, whirling upon his back, and loading his rifle and whirling
back again. He rested his rifle upon the ground, aimed it, and lay with
his eye along the barrel, his finger on the trigger. Five minutes
passed. "I reckon that that last shot fixed him," said the Rebel. "He
hasn't moved this five minutes."

He raised his head, peeped over the embankment, and fell back lifeless.
The unerring rifle-bullet had passed through his head.

If you could go over the battle-ground with one of those sharpshooters,
he would show you a little clump of bushes, and some stumps, where three
or four of them lay on Saturday, in front of one of the Rebel batteries,
and picked off the gunners. Two or three times the artillerymen tried to
drive them out with shells; but they lay close upon the ground, and the
shells did not touch them. The artillerymen were obliged to ceas