a mile away--over the hill. Then the
nearer musketry, first Thomas' on the shoulder of the ridge, next
Gildersleeve's in front, caught fire and raged with new fury.

Waldron laughed outright. "Gahogan has reached them," he said to one
of his staff who had just rejoined him. "We shall all be up there in
five minutes. Tell Colburn to bring on his regiment slowly."

Then, turning to Fitz Hugh, he added, "Captain, we will ride forward."

They set off at a walk, now watching the smoking brow of the eminence,
now picking their way among dead and wounded. Suddenly there was a
shout above them and a sudden diminution of the firing; and looking
upward, they saw the men of the Fourteenth running confusedly toward
the summit. Without a word the brigade commander struck spurs into his
horse and dashed up the long slope at a run, closely followed by his
enemy and aid. What they saw when they overtook the straggling,
running, panting, screaming pell-mell of the Fourteenth was victory!

The entire right wing of the Confederates, attacked on three sides at
once, placed at enormous disadvantage, completely outgeneraled, had
given way in confusion, was retreating, breaking, and flying. There
were lines yet of dirty gray or butternut; but they were few, meagre,
fluctuating, and recoiling, and there were scattered and scurrying
men in hundreds. Three veteran and gallant regiments had gone
all to wreck under the shock of three similar regiments far more
intelligently directed. A strong position had been lost because the
heroes who held it could not perform the impossible feat of forming
successively two fresh fronts under a concentric fire of musketry. The
inferior brain power had confessed the superiority of the stronger
one.

On the victorious side there was wild, clamorous, fierce exultation.
The hurrying, shouting, firing soldiers, who noted their commander
riding among them, swung their rifles or their tattered hats at him,
and screamed "Hurrah!" No one thought of the Confederate dead under
foot, nor of the Union dead who dotted the slope behind. "What are you
here for, Colonel?" shouted rough old Gildersleeve, one leg of his
trousers dripping blood. "We can do it alone."

"It is a battle won," laughed Fitz Hugh, almost worshipping the man
whom he had come to slay.

"It is a battle won, but not used," answered Waldron. "We haven't a
gun yet, nor a flag. Where is the cavalry? Why isn't Stilton here? He
must have got afoul of th