On either flank the
battle opened and swelled rapidly.
"We may have got Pemberton trapped," said Pennington, "but he's got so
many bristles that we can't reach in a hand and pull out our captive.
My God, Dick, are you killed?"
He was pulling Dick to his feet and examining him anxiously.
"I'm all right," said Dick in a moment. "It was the wind of a big round
shot that knocked me down. Just now I'm thanking God it was the wind and
not the shot."
"I wish we could get through these thickets!" exclaimed Warner. "Our
comrades must be engaged much more heavily than we are. What an uproar!"
The combat swelled to great proportions. The Southern army, being
compelled to fight, fought now with all its might. The crest of the long
hill blazed with fire. The men in gray used every advantage of position.
Cannon and rifles raked the woods and thickets, and at many points the
Union attack was driven back. The sun rose slowly and they still held
the hill, fighting with all the fire and valor characteristic of the
South. They were cheered at times by the expectation of victory, but the
stubborn Grant brought up his remaining forces and continually pressed
the battle.
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