A wounded soldier had propped himself against a stone and smiled as the
cheering men swept by. He could rest a while now.
A battery of artillery suddenly blazed from the hill-crest and his
Colonel threw his command flat on their stomachs until the storm should
slacken. John heard the shrill deadly swish of the big shots passing two
feet above.
He lifted his eyes to the hill and a frightened pigeon suddenly swooped
straight down toward his head. He ducked quickly, sure he had escaped a
cannon ball until the laugh of the man at his side told of his mistake.
They rose to charge. The knapsack of the man who had laughed was struck
by a ball and a deck of cards sent flying ten feet in the air.
"Deal me a winning hand!" John shouted.
A shot cut the sword belt of the first lieutenant, left him uninjured,
glanced and killed the captain. The lieutenant picked up his sword, took
his captain's place and led the charge.
Men were falling on the right and left and John Vaughan loaded and fired
with steady, dogged nerve without a scratch.
Four times the blue billows had dashed against the hills only to fall
back in red confusion. The din and roar were indescribable. The
color-bearer of the regiment confused by conflicting orders paused and
asked for instructions. The Colonel, mistaking his act for retreat,
tore the colors from his hand and gave them to another man.
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