“Indeed!” said the young officer.  “These are some of your guns—­”

“Not mine—­I was out of it long ago.  They still carry the brand of my old iron-mills.”

“We shall see, sir, that they do honour to your name.”

“I am sure of that,” returned the colonel, looking at the face of the officer, who as he spoke patted the gun beside him in an affectionate way.

“It seems very peaceful,” he said.

“Yes, yes,” returned Penhallow, “very.”

They looked for a moment of silence down the vale before them, where a mile away the ground rose to a low ridge, beyond which in woody shelters lay the hostile lines.

“What road is that?” asked Penhallow.  “It leaves our right and crosses to enter Lee’s right.”

“The Emmitsburg Pike, sir.”

The Colonel’s glass searched the space before him.  “I see some fine farm-houses—­deserted, of course, and wheat fields no man will reap this year.”  He spoke thoughtfully, and as Woodruff of the nearer battery joined them, the roar of cannon broke the stillness.

“Far on our left,” said Woodruff.  At the sound, the men sprang to their feet and took their stations.  Smoke rose and clouded their view of the distant field where on our left a fury of battle raged, while the rattle of infantry volleys became continuous.  No more words were spoken.  Through the long afternoon the unseen fight went on in front of the Round Tops.  As it came nearer and the grey lines were visible, the guns on the Crest opened a lively fire and kept up their destructive business until the approach of the enemy ceased to extend towards our centre and fell away in death or disorderly flight.  About sunset this varied noise subsided and the remote sound of cheering was heard.

“We must have won,” said General Webb, the brigade commander.  “It was a flanking movement.  How little any one man knows of a battle!”

“By George!  I am glad of a let up,” said the young Captain.  “I am vilely dirty.”  He wiped the grime and sweat from his face and threw himself on the ground as Generals Hunt and Gibbon rode up.

“No great damage here, I see, Webb.  They got awfully licked, but it was near to something else.”

Questioned by Penhallow, they heard the news of our needless loss and final triumphant repulse of the enemy.  Hunt said emphatic things about political generals and their ways.  “He lost a leg,” said Gibbon, “and I think to have lost his life would have been, fortunate.  They are at it still on the right, but the Twelfth Corps has gone back to Culp’s Hill and Ewell will get his share of pounding—­if it be his corps.”

“Then we may get some sleep,” said Penhallow, as he moved away.  “I have had very little for two nights.”

CHAPTER XXIV

It was near to seven when he went down to his parked guns, seeing as he went that the ways were kept clear, and finding ready hot coffee and broiled chicken.