But the boy fell into his doze again, while they were talking.  Warner and Pennington, who had done less arduous duties, were sound asleep near him, the low flames now and then throwing a red light on their tanned faces.  It seemed to him that it was about half way between midnight and morning, and the hum and murmur had sunk to a mere minor note.  But his sleepy eyes still saw the dim forms of men passing about, and then he fell into his uneasy doze again.

When he awoke once more it was misty and dark, but he felt that the dawn was near.  In the east a faint tint of silver showed through the clouds and vapors.  Heavy banks of fog were rising from the Cumberland and the flooded marshes.  The earth began to soften as if unlocking from the hard frost of the night.

Colonel Winchester stood near him and his position showed that he was intensely awake.  He was bent slightly forward, and every nerve and muscle was strained as if he were eager to see and hear something which he knew was there, but which he could not yet either see or hear.

Dick threw off his blanket and sprang to his feet.  At the same moment Colonel Winchester motioned him to awaken Warner and Pennington, which he did at once in speed and silence.  That tint of silver, the lining of the fogs and vapors, shone more clearly through, and spread across the East.  Dick knew now that the dawn was at hand.

The loud but mellow notes of a trumpet came from a distant point toward Donelson, and then others to right and left joined and sang the same mellow song.  But it lasted only for a minute.  Then it was lost in the rapid crackle of rifles, which spread like a running fire along a front of miles.  The sun in the east swung clear of the earth, its beams shooting a way through fogs and vapors.  The dawn had come and the attack had come with it.

The Southerners, ready at last, were rushing from their fort and works, and, with all the valor and fire that distinguished them upon countless occasions, they were hurling themselves upon their enemy.  The fortress poured out regiment after regiment.  Chafing so long upon the defense Southern youth was now at its best.  Attacking, not attacked, the farmer lads felt the spirit of battle blaze high in their breasts.  The long, terrible rebel yell, destined to be heard upon so many a desperate field, fierce upon its lower note, fierce upon its higher note, as fierce as ever upon its dying note, and coming back in echoes still as fierce, swelled over forest and fort, marsh and river.

The crackling fire of the pickets ceased.  They had been driven back in a few moments upon the army, but the whole regiment of Colonel Winchester was now up, rifle in hand, and on either side of it, other regiments steadied themselves also to receive the living torrent.

The little band of Pennsylvanians were on the left of the Kentuckians and were practically a part of them.  Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford stood amid their men, encouraging them to receive the shock.  But Dick had time for only a glance at these old comrades of his.  The Southern wave, crested with fire and steel, was rolling swiftly upon them, and as the Southern troops rushed on they began to fire as fast as they could pull the trigger, fire and pull again.