It soon became apparent to him that it would have no definite result.
Each side was merely feeling out its foe that night, and would not force
the issue. Yet the Southern line approached and some bullets whistled
near him. He moved a little to one side, and watched for an enemy.
It was annoying to have bullets come so close, and since they were
shooting at him he might as well shoot at them.
While he was absorbed in watching, the colonel moved in the other
direction, and Dick stood alone behind a bush. The fire in front had
increased somewhat, although at no time was it violent. Occasional shots
from his own side replied. The clouds that had drifted away were now
drifting back, and he believed that darkness alone would soon end the
combat.
Then he saw a bush only a dozen yards in his front move a little, and a
face peered through its branches. There was yet enough light for him to
see that the face was youthful, eager and handsome. It was familiar, too,
and then with a shock he remembered. Woodville, the lad with whom he had
fought such a good fight, nature's weapons used, was before him.
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