tes, and they came to a sudden stop in deep
perplexity.

"Surrender!" cried Captain Blenks, who was at the front with the major.
And as the Confederates made no sign he turned to his superior. "Shall I
open on them, Major Lyon?"

"Yes," answered Deck, as one of the trio raised his pistol. He was about
to fire when the second company sent in a volley, and the man dropped.
The others turned and sped for their company at the best speed their
legs could command.

"Forward!" ordered Major Deck, and away went the three companies up the
highway until within two hundred yards of the Confederates. As they came
up over the rise the enemy opened upon them, and they returned the fire.
Then Deck turned to his brother.

"Artie, move over into the field and to their right," he said. "The
other companies can handle them from the front."

Without delay Captain Artie Lyon switched off as commanded. The second
company was sent to the opposite side, where there was a slight break in
the timber.

The Confederate ranking captain, seeing this new move, and realizing
that his command was not more than three-quarters as strong as the
enemy, resolved to continue his retreat. But the road curved and this
brought him closer and closer to the position Artie Lyon's company was
riding for, a split in the road where there was a wide open field backed
by some rocks impossible to travel across. Before the Confederate had
time to think twice, Artie gave him two volleys, and, maddened beyond
endurance, the Confederate ordered a charge in the hope of breaking
through the Union line and rejoining the balance of the regiment of the
South.

The rush was such as only certain Southern commands were in the habit of
making, a wild, delirious oncoming, with but one purpose,--to crush all
that was in front, regardless of consequences. These rushes were truly
soul-inspiring and worthy of a better cause. In many cases they brought
victory, but the victory was literally drowned out by the blood which
flowed.

It was so in the present case. Captain Artie's company met the shock
like true soldiers fighting for a cause they knew was both lofty and
just. The clash of steel, the crack of musketry, the din, confusion, and
smoke, the yelling and cheering, were beyond description. It was a
hand-to-hand encounter, in which every man had to do for himself,
leaving his nearest neighbor to do as he saw fit.

The shock came before Major Lyon could do anything to preven