eping in
the White House at Washington with your boots on?"

"I said it," Langdon shouted back, "but I guess it's all off! For God's
sake, Harry, give me a drink of water! I'll give anybody a million
dollars and a half dozen states for a single drink!"

A soldier handed him a canteen, and he drank from it. The water was
warm, but it was nectar, and when he handed it back, he said:

"I don't know you and you don't know me, but if I could I'd give you a
whole lake in return for this. Harry, what are our chances?"

"I don't know. We've lost one battle, but we may have time to win
another. Jackson and those Virginians of his seem able to stand
anything. Up, boys, the battle is on us again!"

The charge swept almost to their feet, but it was driven back, and then
came a momentary lull, not a cessation of the battle, but merely a
sinking, as if the combatants were gathering themselves afresh for a new
and greater effort. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and the fierce
July sun was at its zenith, pouring its burning rays upon both armies,
alike upon the living and upon the dead who were now so numerous.

The lull was most welcome to the men in gray. Some fresh regiments sent
by Johnston had come already, and they hoped for more, but whether they
came or not, the army must stand. The brigades were massed heavily
around the Henry house with that of Jackson standing stern and
indomitable, the strongest wall against the foe. His fame and his
spirit were spreading fast over the field.

The lull was brief, the whole Northern army, its lines reformed, swept
forward in a half curve, and the Southern army sent forth a stream of
shells and bullets to meet it. The brigades of Jackson and Sherman,
indomitable foes, met face to face and swept back and forth over the
ground, which was littered with their fallen. Everywhere the battle
assumed a closer and fiercer phase. Hampton, who had come just in time
with his guns, went down wounded badly. Beauregard himself was wounded
slightly, and so was Jackson, hit in the hand. Many distinguished
officers were killed.

The whole Northern army was driven back four times, and it came a fifth
time to be repulsed once more. In the very height of the struggle Harry
caught a glimpse in front of them of a long horizontal line of red,
like a gleaming ribbon.

"It's those Zouaves!" cried Langdon. "Shoot their pants!"

He did not mean it as a jest. The words just jumped out,