It was the excitement and bitter
humiliation that drove him on.
He stumbled in the smoke against Sergeant Whitley. The sergeant's
forehead had been creased by a bullet, but so much dust and burned
gunpowder had gathered upon it that it was as black as the face of a
black man.
"Are we to lose after all?" exclaimed Dick.
It seemed strange to him, even at that moment, that he should hear his
own voice amid such a roar of cannon and rifles. But it was an undernote,
and he heard with equal ease the sergeant's reply:
"It ain't decided yet, Mr. Mason, but we've got to fight as we never
fought before."
The Union men, both those who had faced Jackson before and those who were
now meeting him for the first time, fought with unsurpassed valor, but,
unequal in numbers, they saw the victory wrenched from their grasp.
Jackson now had his forces in the hollow of his hand. He saw everything
that was passing, and with the mind of a master he read the meaning of
it. He strengthened his own weak points and increased the attack upon
those of the North.
Dick remained beside the sergeant.
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