The coming of night was as sudden to Dick as if it had been the abrupt
dropping of a great dark blanket. In the fury of conflict he had not
noticed the gathering shadows in the west. The dimness around him,
if he had taken time to think about it, he would have ascribed to the
vast columns of dust that eddied and surged about.
Again it was the dust that he felt and remembered. The surging back and
forth of seven score thousand men, the tread of horses and the wheels
of hundreds of cannon raised it in such quantities that it covered the
forest and the armies with a vast whitish curtain. Even in the darkness
it showed dim and ghastly like a funeral veil.
Out of that fatal forest came a dreadful moaning. Dick did not know
whether it was the wind among the leaves or the dying. Once more the
ghosts of the year before walked the fatal field, but the ghosts of this
year would be a far greater company. They had not broken the trap and
Dick knew that the battle was far from over.
It would be renewed in the morning with greater fierceness than ever,
but he was grateful for the present darkness and rest.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171