own on the Cat if we was to say we lost her unless we could tell about
gittin' of her back, and the way she done since, and we didn't have time
to do all that." He looked around as if to receive the corroboration of
the other men, which they signified by nods and shuffling.

The Colonel said it was all right, and the paper should go into the
guns.

"If you please, sir, the guns are all loaded," said the sergeant; "in
and about our last charge, too; and we'd like to fire 'em off once more,
jist for old times' sake to remember 'em by, if you don't think no harm
could come of it?"

The Colonel reflected a moment and said it might be done; they might
fire each gun separately as they rolled it over, or might get all ready
and fire together, and then roll them over, whichever they wished. This
was satisfactory.

The men were then ordered to prepare to march immediately, and withdrew
for the purpose. The pickets were called in. In a short time they were
ready, horses and all, just as they would have been to march ordinarily,
except that the wagons and caissons were packed over in one corner by
the camp with the harness hung on poles beside them, and the guns stood
in their old places at the breastwork ready to defend the pass. The
embers of the sinking camp-fires threw a faint light on them standing so
still and silent. The old Colonel took his place, and at a command from
him in a somewhat low voice, the men, except a detail left to hold the
horses, moved into company-front facing the guns. Not a word was spoken,
except the words of command. At the order each detachment went to its
gun; the guns were run back and the men with their own hands ran them
up on the edge of the perpendicular bluff above the river, where, sheer
below, its waters washed its base, as if to face an enemy on the black
mountain the other side. The pieces stood ranged in the order in which
they had so often stood in battle, and the gray, thin fog rising slowly
and silently from the river deep down between the cliffs, and wreathing
the mountain-side above, might have been the smoke from some unearthly
battle fought in the dim pass by ghostly guns, yet posted there in the
darkness, manned by phantom gunners, while phantom horses stood behind,
lit vaguely up by phantom camp-fires. At the given word the laniards
were pulled together, and together as one the six black guns, belching
flame and lead, roared their last challenge on the misty night, sending
a