He did not drop it in his
rush for the rock, holding on to it mechanically.
He lay for at least a minute or two flat upon the ground behind the great
stone, while the perspiration rolled from his face and his hair prickled
at the roots. He could never learn to be unconcerned when a dozen or
fifteen riflemen were shooting at him.
When he raised his head a little he saw that the Winchester regiment had
fallen back, and that, in truth, the entire advance had stopped until it
could make an attack in full force upon the enemy.
Dick recognized with a certain grim humor that he was isolated. He was
just a little Federal island in a Confederate sea. Up the gap he saw
cannon and masses of gray infantry. Gathered on a comparatively level
spot was a troop of cavalry. He saw all the signs of a desperate defense,
and, while he watched, the great guns of the South began to fire again,
their missiles flying far over his head toward the Northern army.
Dick was puzzled, but for the present he did not feel great alarm about
himself. He lay almost midway between the hostile forces, but it was
likely that they would take no notice of him.
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