“Hurrah for Williams and the Hiram boys!”

But their position was most critical, for shot, and shell, and canister, and the fire of four thousand muskets are now concentrated upon them.

“This will never do!” cries Garfield.  “Who will volunteer to carry the other mountain?”

Colonel Munroe, of the Twenty-second Kentucky, responded quickly, “We will.  We know every inch of the ground.”

“Go in, then,” cries Garfield, “and give them Columbia!”

I have not space to record the varying fortunes of the day.  For five hours the contest rages.  By turns the Union forces are driven back, and then, with a brave charge, they regain their lost ground, and from behind rocks and trees pour in their murderous volleys.  The battle began at noon, and when the sun sets on the brief winter day it is still unfinished.

Posted on a projecting rock, in full sight of both armies, stands the Union commander—­his head uncovered, his hair streaming in the wind, and his heart full of alternate hopes and fears.  It looks as if the day were lost—­as if the gallant eleven hundred were conquered at last, when, at a critical moment, the starry banner is seen waving over an advancing host.  It is Sheldon and reinforcements—­long and anxiously expected!  Their shouts are taken up by the eleven hundred!  The enemy see them and are panic-stricken.

The day is won!

CHAPTER XXV.

THE PERILOUS TRIP UP THE BIG SANDY.

I have followed Col.  Garfield through the Kentucky campaign, not because it compared in importance with many other military operations of the war, but because in its conduct he displayed in a remarkable degree some of the traits by which he was distinguished.  From a military point of view it may be criticised.  His attack upon an enemy far his superior in numbers, and in a more favorable position, would scarcely have been undertaken by an officer of more military experience.  Yet, once undertaken, it was carried through with remarkable dash and brilliancy, and the strategy displayed was of a high order.

I must find room for the address issued to his little army on the day succeeding the battle, for it tells, in brief, the story of the campaign: 

“SOLDIERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE:  I am proud of you all!  In four weeks you have marched, some eighty and some a hundred miles, over almost impassable roads.  One night in four you have slept, often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads.  You have marched in the face of a foe of more than double your number—­led on by chiefs who have won a national reputation under the old flag—­intrenched in hills of his own choosing, and strengthened by all the appliances of military art.  With no experience but the consciousness of your own manhood, you have driven him from his strongholds, pursued his inglorious flight, and compelled him to meet you in battle.  When forced to fight,