While the
other Rangers to a man were lying still, on the back with the knees
drawn up, or face downward, with the arms outstretched, or rolled on the
side as though they were in bed, Vickerson was rising on his hands and
dragging himself forward. It was one of Ashley's most vivid
recollections that Vickerson's movements were like a seal's. They had
the drollery of a bit of infernal mimicry. It was also a vivid
recollection that when he ran out to the soldier's aid he had his first
sensation of fear. The bullets whizzed so thick about him that he ran
back again. It was an involuntary running back, as involuntary as
snatching his fingers out of a fire. He could remember standing under
the rock, and, as Vickerson did not move, half hoping he were dead. That
would put an end to any further attempts to save him. But the soldier
stirred again, propping himself with both hands and pulling his body
onward for a few inches more. Again Ashley ran out into a tempest of
iron and fire and over ground slippery with blood. He could still feel
himself hopping back, as a barefooted boy who has ventured into a
snow-storm hops back into the house. A third time he ran out, and a
fourth.
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