Rifles and pistols emptied, the Southern horsemen were preparing to charge.  The lifting smoke disclosed a long line of tossing manes and flashing steel.  At either end of the line a shrill trumpet was sounding the charge, and the Northern bugles were responding with the same command.  The two forces were about to meet in that most terrible of all combats, a cavalry charge by either side, when enemies looked into the eyes of one another, and strong hands swung aloft the naked steel, glittering in the moonlight.

“Bend low in the saddle,” exclaimed the sergeant, “and then you’ll miss many a stroke!”

Dick obeyed promptly and their whole line swept forward over the grass to meet the men in gray who were coming so swiftly against them.  He saw a thousand sabers uplifted, making a stream of light, and then the two forces crashed together.  It seemed to him that it was the impact of one solid body upon another as solid, and then so much blood rushed to his head that he could not see clearly.  He was conscious only of a mighty crash, of falling bodies, sweeping sabers, that terrible neigh again of wounded horses, of sun-tanned faces, and of fierce eyes staring into his own, and then, as the red mist thinned a little, he became conscious that someone just before him was slashing at him with a long, keen blade.  He bent yet lower, and the sword passed over him, but as he rose a little he cut back.  His edge touched only the air, but he uttered a gasp of horror as he saw Harry Kenton directly before him, and knew that they had been striking at each other.  He saw, too, the appalled look in Harry’s eyes, who at the same time had recognized his opponent, and then, in the turmoil of battle, other horsemen drove in between.

That shiver of horror swept over Dick once more, and then came relief.  The charging horsemen had separated them in time, and he did not think it likely that the chances of battle would bring Harry and him face to face more than once.  Then the red blur enclosed everything and he was warding off the saber strokes of another man.  The air was yet filled with the noise of shouting men, and neighing horses, of heavy falls and the ring of steel on steel.  Neither gave way and neither could advance.  The three Union colonels rode up and down their lines encouraging their men, and the valiant Talbot and St. Hilaire were never more valiant than on that night.

A combat with sabers cannot last long, and cavalry charges are soon finished.  North and South had met in the center of the open space, and suddenly the two, because all their force was spent, fell back from that deadly line, which was marked by a long row of fallen horses and men.  They reloaded their rifles and carbines and began to fire at one another, but it was at long range, and little damage was done.  They fell back a bit farther, the firing stopped entirely, and they looked at one another.