left of Stuart's position.

As the Fifth Michigan advanced from field to field and fence to fence, a
line of gray came out from behind the Rummel buildings and the woods
beyond. A stubborn and spirited contest ensued. The opposing batteries
filled the air with shot and shrieking shell. Amazing marksmanship was
shown by Pennington's battery, and such accurate artillery firing was
never seen on any other field. Alger's men with their eight-shotted
carbines, forced their adversaries slowly but surely back, the gray line
fighting well and superior in numbers, but unable to withstand the storm
of bullets. It made a final stand behind the strong line of fences, in
front of Rummel's and a few hundred yards out from the foot of the slope
whereon, concealed by the woods, Stuart's reserves were posted.

While the fight was raging on the plain, Weber with his outpost was
driven in. His two troops were added to the four already stationed on
the left of Pennington's battery. Weber, who had been promoted to major
but a few days before, was ordered by Colonel Gray to assume command of
the battalion. As he took his place by my side in front of the leading
troop, he said:

"I have seen thousands of them over there," pointing to the front. "The
country yonder, is full of the enemy."

He had observed all of Stuart's movements, and it was he who gave Custer
the first important information as to what the enemy was doing; which
information was transmitted to Gregg, and probably had a determining
influence in keeping Custer on the field.

Weber was a born soldier, fitted by nature and acquirements for much
higher rank than any he held. Although but 23 years of age, he had seen
much service. A private in the Third Michigan infantry in 1861, he was
next battalion adjutant of the Second Michigan cavalry, served on the
staff of General Elliott, in the southwest, and came home with Alger in
1862, to take a troop in the Sixth Michigan cavalry. The valuable
service rendered by him at Gettysburg was fitly recognized by Custer in
his official report. He was killed ten days later at Falling Waters,
while leading his squadron in a charge which was described by Kilpatrick
as "the most gallant ever made." Anticipating a spirited fight, he was
eager to have a part in it. "Bob," he said to me a few days before,
while marching through Maryland, "I want a chance to make one saber
charge." He thought the time had come. His eye flashed and his face
flushed