“Thanks, old fellow,” said the enemy, as he sprang over the wall “It helps—­God knows.”

He caught at his horse’s mane and threw himself into the saddle without touching the stirrup, while his voice roared out his command.

“Ready, men!  Forward!”

“Good-by,” shrilled Virgie in her childish treble.  “Good-by, Colonel!  Don’t get hurt.”

“Daddy!” she cried, as they crouched down in their hiding place behind the wall.  “Is there going to be a—­a battle?”

“Only a little one.  But you won’t be afraid.”

A rattle of approaching wheels came from down the road, the shock of steel tires striking viciously against the stones, the cries and oaths of the drivers urging the horses forward.

“Look!” cried Cary, springing to his feet in spite of the danger in which his gray uniform placed him.  “Here come the field pieces.  In a minute now the dogs will begin to bark.”

With a roar of wheels and a clash of harness and accouterments the guns rushed by while the child stared and stared, her big eyes almost starting out of her face.

“The dogs!” she said in wonder.  “There wasn’t a single dog there!”

“Another kind of dog,” her father said with a meaning look.  “And their teeth are very long.  Ah!  There they go!  Over yonder on the hill—­in the edge of the woods.  The Yankee dogs are barking.  Now listen for the answer.”

Together they listened, father and daughter, with straining ears—­listened for the defiant reply of those men who, being Americans, were never beaten until hunger and superior numbers forced them to the wall.

“Boom!” A great, ear-filling sound crashed over the hills and rolled, echoing, through the woods.

“That’s us!  That’s us!” the man cried out exultantly, while he caught the child closer in his arms.  “Hear our people talking, honey?  Hear ’em talk!”

But overhead something was coming through the air and the child shrank down in terror—­something that whined and screamed as it sped on its dreadful way and seemed like a demon out of hell searching for his prey.

“Lord a’ mercy, Daddy!” the child cried out.  “What’s that?”

He patted her head consolingly.  “Nothing at all but a shell.  They sound much worse than they really are.  Don’t be afraid.  Nothing will hurt you.”

From the forks of the road the sound of volley firing grew stronger and, as if in response, the road to the Union rear now turned into a stream of living blue, with cavalry madly galloping and sweating infantry hurrying forward as fast as their legs could carry them.

“Look, Virgie, look!” her father cried, holding her head a little way above the wall.  “See those bayonets shining back there across the road.  A whole regiment of infantry.  And they’re going up against our men across an open field! By Jiminy, but those Yanks will get a mustard bath.  Ah-hah!” he chortled, as a roar of musketry broke out.  “I told you so!  Our boys are after them.  Good work!  Good work!”