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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Western Crisis"

After going
a little distance he was compelled to stop again and consider. It was
curious how one could lose direction in so small a space.
He paused and listened, intending to regain his course through the sense
of hearing. From the north and east came the thunder of the siege guns.
It had grown heavier and was continuous now. Once more he was sorry for
Vicksburg, because the Union gunners were unsurpassed and he was sure
that bombs and shells were raining upon the devoted town.
Now he knew that he must go west by south, and he made his way over
difficult country, crossing ravines, climbing hills, and picking his
path now and then through soft ground, the most exhausting labor of all.
The sun poured down upon him and his uniform dried fast. He had just
crossed one of the ravines and was climbing into the thicket beyond when
a voice asked:
"See any of the Yanks in front?"
Dick's heart stood still, and then all his presence of mind came back.
Not in vain had the kindly colonel warned him of the Southern
sharpshooters in the bush.
"No," he replied.


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