“Don’t forget the other Confederate column to the south of us,” whispered Whitley.  “They did not fire at first for fear their bullets would pass over our heads and strike their own comrades.  For the same reason they must have dropped back a little in order to avoid the fire of their friends.  Their volley will come from an angle about midway between our left and rear.”

Just as he spoke the last words the rifles flashed at the surmised angle and again the bullets beat among the young troops or swept over their heads.  A soldier was killed only a few feet from Dick.  The boy picked up his rifle and ammunition and began to fire whenever be saw the flash of an opposing weapon.  But the fire of both Confederate columns ceased in a minute or two, and not a shot nor the sound of a single order came out of the darkness.  But Dick with his ear to the soft earth, could hear the crush of hoofs in the mud, and with a peculiar ability to discern whence sound came he knew that the force on the left and rear was crossing the railroad track in order to join their comrades on the north.  He whispered his knowledge to Whitley, who whispered back: 

“It’s the natural thing for them to do.  They could not afford to fight on in the darkness with two separate forces.  The two columns would soon be firing into each other.”

Colonel Newcomb now gave an order for the men to rise and follow the railroad track, but also to fire at the flash of the rifles whenever a volley was poured upon them.  He must not only beat off the Southern attack, but also continue the journey to those points in the west where they were needed so sorely.  Some of his men had been killed, and he was compelled to leave their bodies where they had fallen.  Others were wounded, but without exception they were helped along by their comrades.

Warner also had secured a rifle, with which he fired occasionally, but he and Dick, despite the darkness, kept near to Colonel Newcomb in order that they might deliver any orders that he should choose to give.  Sergeant Whitley was close to them.  Dick presently heard the rush of water.

“What is that?” he exclaimed.

“It’s the little river that runs down the valley,” replied Warner.  “There’s a slope here and it comes like a torrent.  A bridge or rather trestle is only a little further, and we’ve got to walk the ties, if we reach the other side.  They’ll make their heaviest rush there, I suppose, as beyond a doubt they are thoroughly acquainted with the ground.”

The Northern troops left the track which here ran along an embankment several feet high, and took shelter on its southern side.  They now had an advantage for a while, as they fired from a breastwork upon their foes, who were in the open.  But the darkness, lit only by the flashes of the rifles, kept the fire of both sides from being very destructive, the bullets being sent mainly at random.

Dick dimly saw the trestle work ahead of them, and the roaring of the little river increased.  He did not know how deep the water was, but he was sure that it could not be above his waist as it was a small stream.  An idea occurred to him and he promptly communicated it to Colonel Newcomb.