rders before the advance,
and he left the rest to his lieutenants.

"I wish I could be as calm as he is," said Harry.

"I'll risk saying that he isn't calm inside," said Dalton. "How could
any man be at such a time?"

"You're right. Duck! Here comes a shell!"

But the shell fell short and exploded on the slope.

"Now listen, will you!" exclaimed Harry. "That's the spirit!"

Immediately after the shell burst a Southern band began to play.
And it played the merriest music, waltzes and polkas and all kinds of
dances. Harry felt his feet move to the tunes, while the battle below,
at its very height, roared and thundered.

But he promptly forgot the musicians as he watched the battle. He knew
that the Invincibles were somewhere in that volcano of fire and smoke,
and it was almost too much to hope that they would again come unhurt
out of such a furious conflict. But they, too, passed quickly from his
mind. The struggle would let nothing else remain there long.

He saw that the Union troops were still in the Peach Orchard and that
they were pouring a deadly fire also from Little Round Top. Hancock had
come to take the place of Sickles, and he was drawing every man he could
to his support. The afternoon was waning, but the battle was still at
its height. Men were falling by thousands, and generals, colonels,
majors, officers of all kinds were falling with them. The Southerners
had not encountered such resistance in any other great battle, and the
ground, moreover, was against them.

Yet the grim fighter, Longstreet, never ceased to push on his brigades.
The combat was now often face to face, and sharpshooters, hidden in
every angle and hollow of the earth, picked off men by hundreds.
The great rocky mass known as the Devil's Den was filled with Northern
sharpshooters and for a long time they stung the Southern flank terribly,
until a Southern battery, noticing whence the deadly stream of
bullets issued, sprayed it with grape and canister until most of the
sharpshooters were killed, while those who survived fled like wolves
from their lairs.

The day was now passing, but Harry could see no decrease in the fury of
the battle. Longstreet was still hurling his men forward, and they were
met with cannon and rifle and bayonet. The Confederate line now grew
more compact. The brigades were brought into closer touch, and,
gathering their strength anew, they rushed forward in a charge, heavier
and more desperat