he ground from the artillery; and
lying down, the infantry generally, even with their better guns, could
not hurt them to a great extent; but a line of sharp-shooters, well
placed behind cover of scattered rocks on the far side of the field,
could reach them with their long-range rifles, and galled them with
their dropping fire, picking off man after man. A line of sharp-shooters
was thrown forward to drive them in; but their guns were not as good and
the cover was inferior, and it was only after numerous losses that they
succeeded in silencing most of them. They still left several men up
among the rocks, who from time to time sent a bullet into the line with
deadly effect. One man, in particular, ensconced behind a rock on the
hill-side, picked off the men with unerring accuracy. Shot after shot
was sent at him. At last he was quiet for so long that it seemed he must
have been silenced, and they began to hope; Ad Mills rose to his knees
and in sheer bravado waved his hat in triumph. Just as he did so a puff
of white came from the rock, and Ad Mills threw up his hands and fell
on his back, like a log, stone dead. A groan of mingled rage and dismay
went along the line. Poor old Cove crept over and fell on the boy's body
with a flesh wound in his own arm. Fifty shots were sent at the rock,
but a puff of smoke from it afterward and a hissing bullet showed that
the marksman was untouched. It was apparent that he was secure behind
his rock bulwark and had some opening through which he could fire at his
leisure. It was also apparent that he must be dislodged if possible; but
how to do it was the question; no one could reach him. The slope down
and the slope up to the group of rocks behind which he lay were both in
plain view, and any man would be riddled who attempted to cross it. A
bit of woods reached some distance up on one side, but not far enough
to give a shot at one behind the rock; and though the ground in that
direction dipped a little, there was one little ridge in full view
of both lines and perfectly bare, except for a number of bodies of
skirmishers who had fallen earlier in the day. It was discussed in the
line; but everyone knew that no man could get across the ridge alive.
While they were talking of it Little Darby, who, with a white face, had
helped old Cove to get his boy's body back out of fire, slipped off to
one side, rifle in hand, and disappeared in the wood.

They were still talking of the impossibility