It was never in the lad's
heart to tell his uncle how near he had come unwittingly to shearing off
the head of his own nephew.
The charge of the cavalrymen carried them clear through the Winchester
regiment, but a regiment coming up to the relief drove them back, and the
great mass turning aside a little attacked anew and elsewhere. A few
moments of rest were permitted Dick and his comrades, although the mighty
battle wheeled and thundered all about them.
But their regiment was a melancholy sight. A third of its numbers were
killed or wounded. The ground was torn and trampled, as if it had been
swept by a hurricane of wind and red rain. Dick had one slight wound
on his shoulder and another on his arm, but he did not feel them.
Pennington and Warner both had scratches, but the colonel was unharmed.
"My God," exclaimed Warner, "how did we happen to survive it!"
"I live to boast that I've been ridden over by old Forrest himself,"
said Pennington.
"How do you know it was Forrest?"
"Because his horse was eight feet high and his sword was ten feet long.
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