Part 2 (2/2)

Waldron now returned toward the fork of the road. On the way he sent a staff officer to the Seventh with renewed orders to attack as soon as possible after Gildersleeve. Then another staff officer was hurried forward to Taylor with directions to push his feint strongly, and drive his skirmishers as far up the slope as they could get. A third staff officer set the Parrotts in rear of Taylor to firing with all their might. By the time that the commandant had returned to Col-burn's ambushed ranks, no one was with him but his enemy, Fitz Hugh.

”You don't seem to trust me with duty, Colonel,” said the young man.

”I shall use you only in case of extremity, Captain,” replied Waldron.

”We have business to settle to-morrow.”

”I ask no favors on that account. I hope you will offer me none.”

”In case of need I shall spare no one,” declared Waldron.

Then he took out his watch, looked at it impatiently, put it to his ear, restored it to his pocket, and fell into an att.i.tude of deep attention.

Evidently his whole mind was on his battle, and he was waiting, watching, yearning for its outburst.

”If he wins this fight,” thought Fitz Hugh, ”how can I do him a harm?

And yet,” he added, ”how can I help it?”

Minutes pa.s.sed. Fitz Hugh tried to think of his injury, and to steel himself against his chief. But the roar of battle on the right, and the suspense and imminence of battle on the left, absorbed the attention of even this wounded and angry spirit, as, indeed, they might have absorbed that of any being not more or less than human. A private wrong, insupportable though it might be, seemed so small amid that deadly clamor and awful expectation! Moreover, the intellect which worked so calmly and vigorously by his side, and which alone of all things near appeared able to rule the coming crisis, began to dominate him, in spite of his sense of injury. A thought crossed him to the effect that the great among men are too valuable to be punished for their evil deeds.

He turned to the absorbed brigade commander, now not only his ruler, but even his protector, with a feeling that he must accord him a word of peace, a proffer in some form of possible forgiveness and friends.h.i.+p.

But the man's face was clouded and stern with responsibility and authority. He seemed at that moment too lofty to be approached with a message of pardon. Fitz Hugh gazed at him with a mixture of prof ound respect and smothered hate. He gazed, turned away, and remained silent.

Minutes more pa.s.sed. Then a mounted orderly dashed up at full speed, with the words, ”Colonel, Major Gahogan has fronted.”

”Has he?” answered Waldron, with a smile which thanked the trooper and made him happy. ”Ride on through the thicket here, my man, and tell Colonel Gildersleeve to push up his skirmishers.”

With a thud of hoofs and a rustling of parting foliage the cavalryman disappeared amid the underwood. A minute or two later a thin, dropping rattle of musketry, five hundred yards or so to the front, announced that the sharpshooters of the Fourteenth were at work. Almost immediately there was an angry response, full of the threatenings and execution of death. Through the lofty leaf.a.ge tore the screech of a sh.e.l.l, bursting with a sharp crash as it pa.s.sed overhead, and scattering in humming slivers. Then came another, and another, and many more, chasing each other with hoa.r.s.e hissings through the trembling air, a succession of flying serpents. The enemy doubtless believed that nearly the whole attacking force was ma.s.sed in the wood around the road, and they had brought at least four guns to bear upon that point, and were working them with the utmost possible rapidity. Presently a large chestnut, not fifty yards from Fitz Hugh, was struck by a shot. The solid trunk, nearly three feet in diameter, parted asunder as if it were the brittlest of vegetable matter. The upper portion started aside with a monstrous groan, dropped in a standing posture to the earth, and then toppled slowly, sublimely prostrate, its branches cras.h.i.+ng and all its leaves wailing. Ere long, a little further to the front, another Anak of the forest went down; and, mingled with the noise of its sylvan agony, there arose sharp cries of human suffering. Then Colonel Colburn, a broad-chested and ruddy man of thirty-five, with a look of indignant anxiety in his iron-gray eyes, rode up to the brigade commander.

”This is very annoying, Colonel,” he said. ”I am losing my men without using them. That last tree fell into my command.”

”Are they firing toward our left?” asked Waldron.

”Not a shot.”

”Very good,” said the chief, with a sigh of contentment. ”If we can only keep them occupied in this direction! By the way, let your men lie down under the fallen tree, as far as it will go. It will protect them from others.”

Colburn rode back to his regiment. Waldron looked impatiently at his watch. At that moment a fierce burst of line firing arose in front, followed and almost overborne by a long-drawn yell, the scream of charging men. Waldron put up his watch, glanced excitedly at Fitz Hugh, and smiled.

”I must forgive or forget,” the latter could not help saying to himself.

”All the rest of life is nothing compared with this.”

”Captain,” said Waldron, ”ride off to the left at full speed. As soon as you hear firing at the shoulder of the ridge, return instantly and let me know.”

Fitz Hugh dashed away. Three minutes carried him into perfect peace, beyond the whistling of ball or the screeching of sh.e.l.l. On the right was a tranquil, wide waving of foliage, and on the left a serene landscape of cultivated fields, with here and there an embowered farm-house. Only for the clamor of artillery and musketry far behind him, he could not have believed in the near presence of battle, of blood and suffering and triumphant death. But suddenly he heard to his right, a.s.saulting and slaughtering the tranquillity of nature, a tumultuous outbreak of file firing, mingled with savage yells. He wheeled, drove spurs into his horse, and flew back to Waldron. As he re-entered the wood he met wounded men streaming through it, a few marching alertly upright, many more crouching and groaning, some clinging to their less injured comrades, but all haggard in face and ghastly.

”Are we winning?” he hastily asked of one man who held up a hand with three fingers gone and the bones projecting in sharp spikes through mangled flesh.

”All right, sir; sailing in,” was the answer.

”Is the brigade commander all right?” he inquired of another who was winding a b.l.o.o.d.y handkerchief around his arm.

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