an evil one. True, that infantry and guns were
soon advancing to their aid on a "double-quick"; yet all the advantage
seemed to lie with the ragged, sharp-shooting Southerners.

The crackle of musketry increased; the dust rolled up and intermingled
with the wreathes of drifting smoke, and through it came the vicious
whine of leaden messengers of death.

Then, borne on the wind, came a sound that he would know till his dying
day--_the rebel yell_. An exultant scream,--a cry of unending hate,
defiance, _victory_!

He sprang to his feet. Off came the battered old campaign hat and
unmindful that he stood there hidden in the woods and that his voice
could carry only a few yards against the roar of battle, he swung it
over his head: and shouted out his encouragement.

"Look! We're whipping 'em. Virgie, do you hear? We're getting them on
the run. Come on, boys! Come on!"

He felt her clutch on his sleeve. With wide eyes grown darker than ever
with excitement, she asked her piteous question.

"Daddy! _Will they kill the Colonel?_"

For a moment he could not answer. Then, with a groan he gave back his
answer: "I _hope_ not, darling. I hope not!"

Down the road a riderless horse was coming, head up and stirrups flying.
As it galloped past Cary scrutinized it closely and was glad he did not
recognize it. In its wake came soldiers, infantry and dismounted
cavalry, firing, retreating, loading and firing again, but always
retreating.

"Here come the stragglers," he cried. "We're whipping 'em! Close,
darling, _close_. Lie down against the wall."

He crouched above her, shielding her as best he could with his body.
Then, suddenly, a man in blue leaped on the wall not ten feet away. He
had meant to seize the wall as a breastwork and fight from behind it,
but before he dropped down he would fire one last shot. His gun came up
to his shoulder--he aimed at some unseen foe and fired. But from
somewhere, out of the crash of sound and the rolling powder smoke, a
singing missile came and found its mark. The man in blue bent over
suddenly, wavered, then toppled down inside the wall, his gun ringing on
the stones as he fell.

"Daddy!" the child whispered, with ashen face, "it's the biscuit man.
It's HARRY!"

Her father's hand went out instinctively to cover her eyes. "Don't look,
dear! Don't look!"

The road was choked now. Cavalry and infantry, all in a mad rush for the
rear, were tearing by while the two field pieces which but