rept into their throats and all three coughed
repeatedly, but did not notice it, having no thought for anything save
for what was passing before them. They were powdered with it, face, hair
and shoulders, until it lay over them like a veil, but they did not know
nor care.

The battle suddenly changed again and the South was pressed back anew.
Once more their faces fell, and the hearts of the women, raised to such
heights, sank to the depths. It was coming nearer, too. There was a
fierce hiss, a shrill scream and something went by.

"A shell passed near us then," said Harley, "and there's another. The
battle is swinging close."

Still the element of fear did not enter into the minds of any of the
three, not even into those of the women, although another shell passed
by and then others, all with a sharp, screaming note, full of malignant
ferocity. Then they ceased to come and the battle again hovered in the
distance, growing redder and redder than ever against a black background
as the day darkened and the twilight approached. Its sound now was a
roar and a hum--many varying notes blending into a steady clamour, which
was not without a certain rhythm and music--like the simultaneous
beating of a million mighty bass drums.

"They still press us back," murmured Harley; "the battle is wavering."

With the coming of the twilight the light in the forest of scrub oaks
and pines, the light from so many cannon and rifles, assumed vivid and
unearthly hues, tinged at the edges with a yellow glare and shot through
now and then with blue and purple streaks. Over it hung the dark and
sullen sky.

"It comes our way again," said Harley.

It seemed now to converge upon them from all sides, to contract its
coils like a python, but still the house was untouched, save by the
drifting smoke and ashes. Darker and darker the night came down, a black
cap over all this red struggle, but with its contrast deepening the
vivid colours of the combat that went on below.

Nearer it came, and suddenly some horsemen shot from the flame-cloud and
stood for a moment in a huddled group, as if they knew not which way to
turn. They were outlined vividly against the red battle and their
uniforms were gray. Even Helen could see why they hesitated and doubted.
Riderless horses galloped out of the smoke and, with the curious
attraction that horses have for the battlefield, hovered near, their
empty saddles on their backs.

A groan burst from Harley.