burg had begun to
suffer from a lack of food. They were down to half rations. They had
neither tea nor coffee, and medicines were exhausted. Many and many a
time they looked forth from their hills and prayed for Johnston, but he
could not come. Always the Union flag floated before them, and the ring
of steel so strong and broad was contracting inch by inch.

The Northern engineers ran mines under the Confederate works. They used
every device of ingenious minds to push the siege. Spies brought word
that all food would soon be gone in Vicksburg, and Grant, grim of
purpose, took another hitch in the steel belt about the hopeless town.
The hostile earthworks and trenches were now so near that the men could
hear one another talking. Sometimes in a lull of the firing they
would come out and exchange tobacco or news. It was impossible for the
officers to prevent it, and they really did not seek to do so, as the
men fought just as well when they returned to their works.

June now drew to a close and the great heats of July were at hand. Dick
was convinced that the defense of Vicksburg was drawing to a like close.
They had proof that some of the irregulars in Vicksburg had escaped
through the lines and he was convinced that Slade would be among them.
They were the rats and Vicksburg was the sinking ship.

They heard that Johnston had gathered together twenty-five thousand men
and was at last marching to the relief of the town. Dick believed that
Grant must have laughed one of his grimmest laughs. They knew that
Johnston's men were worn and half-starved, and had been harassed by
other Union troops. Johnston was skillful, but he would only be a lean
and hungry wolf attacking a grizzly bear. He was sure that all danger
from him had passed.

Now, as they closed in the Northern guns increased their fire. It seemed
to Dick that they could have blown away the whole plateau of Vicksburg
by this time. The storm of shells raked the town, and he was glad that
the people had been able to dig caves for refuge. Colonel Woodville must
be doing some of his greatest swearing now. Dick thought of him with
sympathy and friendliness.

"I don't think it can last much longer, Mr. Mason," said Sergeant Daniel
Whitley on the morning of the second of July. "Their guns don't answer
ours often and it means that they're out of ammunition, or almost.
Besides, you can stand shells and bullets easier than lack of food.
'Pears to me I can nearly feel 'em