All along the creek the Union army, including his
own regiment, was forming in line of battle but his colonel had not yet
called upon him for any duty. Warner and Pennington were also resting
from their long and exciting ride, but the sergeant, who seemed never to
know fatigue, was already at work with his men.
"Listen to those skirmishers," said Dick. "It sounds like the popping of
corn at home on winter evenings, when I was a little boy."
"But a lot more deadly," said Pennington. "I wouldn't like to be a
skirmisher. I don't mind firing into the smoke and the crowd, but I'd
hate to sit down behind a stump or in the grass and pick out the spot on
a man that I meant for my bullet to hit."
"You won't have to do any such work, Frank," said Warner. "Hark to it!
The sergeant was right. We're going to have a battle to-day and a big
one. The popping of your corn, Dick, has become an unbroken sound."
Dick, from the crest of the hillock on which they lay, gazed over the
heads of the men in blue. The skirmishers were showing a hideous
activity. A continuous line of light ran along the front of both armies,
and behind the flash of the Southern firing he saw heavy masses of
infantry emerging from the woods.
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