The four hundred in
front, spreading out in as long a line as possible in order to protect
their flanks, took shelter behind the trees and awaited the onset.
The attack was not long in coming. The Southern sharpshooters, creeping
from tree to tree, began to fire. Scores of rifles cracked and Dick,
from a convenient place behind a tree, saw the spouts of flame appearing
along a line of four or five hundred yards. Bullets whizzed about him,
and, knowing that he would not be needed at present for any message,
he hugged the friendly bark more tightly.
"It's lucky we have plenty of trees," said a voice from the shelter of
the tree next to him. "We have at least one for every officer and man."
It was Warner who spoke and he was quite cheerful. Like Colonel
Winchester, he seemed to look forward to the combat with a certain joy,
and he added:
"You'll take notice, Dick, old man, that we've not been surprised.
Forrest hasn't galloped over us as he did before. He's taking the
trouble to make the approach with protected riflemen. Now what is the
sergeant up to?"
Sergeant Whitley, after whispering a little with Colonel Winchester,
had stolen off toward the right with fifty picked riflemen.
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