"Our people," answered Rachel, "seem to be concentrating in front of Breckenridge.There must be a division over there.Breckenridge sees it, and his cannon are firing at our men.He is bringing men up at the double quick." She stopped, for a spasm of fear in regard to Harry choked her.
"Go on, honey.What are they doing now?""Our men have formed a long line, reaching from the river up to the woods.They begin to march forward.Breckenridge opens more guns.They cut lanes through them.Now the infantry begins firing.
A cloud of smoke settles down and hides both sides.I can see no more.O my God, our men are running.The whole line comes back out of the smoke, with men dropping at every step.If Harry were only safely out of there, I'd give my life."Aunt Debby groaned."Look again, honey," she said after a moment's pause.
"It's worse than ever.Breckenridge's men are swarming out of their works.There seems to be a myriad of them.They cover the whole hillside until I can not see the ground.They yell like demons, and drive our men down into the river.They follow them to the water's edge and shoot them down in the stream.Ah, there goes a battery on the gallop to the hill in front of us.It has opened on the Rebels, and its shells dig great holes in the black masses, but the Rebels still come on.There goes another battery on the gallop.It has opened.There is another.Still another.
They are galloping over here from every direction.""Glory!" shouted Aunt Debby.
"There's a fringe of trees near the water's edge, whose tops reach nearly tot he top of the hill.The cannon shots tear the branches off and dash down the great ranks of Rebels with them.""The arth rocks as when He lays his finger upon hit," said Aunt Debby.
The ground was trembling under the explosion of the fifty-eight pieces of artillery which Rosencrans hastily massed at four o'clock Friday, for the relief of his overpowered left."What's them that go 'boo-woo-woo,' like great big dogs barkin'?""Those are John Mendenhall's big Napoleons," said a wounded artillery officer."Go on, Miss.What now?""The Rebels have stopped coming on.They are apparently firing back.
The shells and the limbs of the trees still break their lines and tear them to pieces.Now our men dash across the river again, and begin a musketry fire that mows them down.They start to run, and our men charge after them, cheering as they run.Our men have taken their cannon away from them.The Rebels are running for life to get inside their works.The hillside is dotted with those who have fallen, and there are rows of them lying near the water.Now everything is quieting down again.""Glory ter God! for He has at last given the enemy inter our hands.
Come and kiss me, honey, an' say good-by."From the throats of twenty-five thousand excited spectators of the destruction of Breckenridge's division rose cheers of triumph that echoed to the clouds.
"What sweet music that is!" said Aunt Debby, half unclosing her eyes."God bless ye, honey.Good-by."The gentle eyes closed forever.
Late in the evening Dr.Denslow's stretcher corps brough in Harry Glen, who had fallen in the last charge with a flesh wound in the leg.Until he woke the next morning to find her sitting by his bedside, Harry thought he had been dreaming all the time that Rachel Bond had come to him, dressed in quaint country garb, and loosed with gentle, painless fingers the stiff, blood-encrusted bandage about his head, and replaced it with something that soothed and eased his fevered temples.
"I have very good news for you," she said, later in the day."Kent Edwards says that you are promoted to Captain, by special orders, for 'Conspicuous gallantry on the battle-field of Stone River.'""And when are we to be married?" he asked.
"Just as soon as you are able to travel back to Sardis."They looked up and saw Dr.Denslow standing beside them.A stunned look on his face indicated that he had heard and understood all.
This speedily gave away to his accustomed expression of serene philosophy.
"Forget me, except as a friend," he said."It is better as it is for you, Harry, and certainly better for her.Possibly it is better for"--with a little gasp--"me.The sweets of love are not for me.They are irrational, and irrational things are carefully eliminated from my scheme of life."Towards evening Fortner came in with the news "Thet ole Bragg picked up his traps and skipped out fur Tullahoma, ter nuss his hurts, leavin' his wounded and lots o' stores in our hands."So was gained the great victory of Stone River.
End
