They cried that
everything was lost. The lip of Jackson curled in contempt. The long
line of his Virginians stopped the fugitives and drove them back to the
battle. It was evident to Harry, young as he was, that Jackson would
be just in time.
Then they saw a battery galloping from that bank of smoke and flame, and,
its officer swearing violently, exclaimed that he had been left without
support. The stern face and somber eyes of Jackson were turned upon him.
"Unlimber your guns at once," he said. "Here is your support."
Then the valiant Bee himself came, covered with dust, his clothes torn
by bullets, his horse in a white lather. He, too, turned to that stern
brown figure, as unflinching as death itself, and he cried that the
enemy in overwhelming numbers were beating them back.
"Then," said Jackson, "we'll close up and give them the bayonet."
His teeth shut down like a vise. Again the electric current leaped
forth and sparkled through the veins of Bee, who turned and rode back
into the Southern throng, the Virginians following swiftly. Then
Jackson looked over the field with the eye and mind of genius, the eye
that is able to see and the mind that is able to understand amid all
the thunder and confusion and excitement of battle.
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