He shouted and fired his rifle again. Then he fell like a log. Dick
rushed to him at once, but he saw that he had only fainted from loss of
blood. He bound up the sergeant's head as best he could, and, easing him
against a bank, returned to the battle front.
A shout suddenly arose. Officers had seen through their glasses a column
of dust rising far behind them. It was so vast that it could only be
made by a great body of marching troops. But who were the men that were
making it? In all the frightful din and excitement of the battle the
question ran through the army of Thomas. If fresh enemies were coming
upon their rear they were lost! If friends there was yet hope!
But they could not watch the tower of dust long. The enemy in front
gave them no chance. Polk was still beating upon them, and Longstreet,
having seized a ridge, was pouring an increased fire from his advanced
position.
"If that cloud of dust encloses gray uniforms we're lost!" shouted Warner
in Dick's ear.
"But it mustn't enclose 'em," Dick shouted back. "Fate wouldn't play us
such an awful trick! We can't lose, after having done and suffered so
much!"
Fate would not say which.
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