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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

It grew
louder. An officer rode by me hatless, and halted, shading his eyes.
Then he rode back hurriedly.
'Hell has broke loose!' he shouted, as he passed me.
The blue-coated host was rushing towards us like a flood'
artillery, cavalry, infantry, wagon train. There was a mighty uproar
in the men behind me - a quick stir of feet. Terror spread over
them like the travelling of fire. It shook their tongues. The crowd
began caving at the edge and jamming at the centre. Then it spread
like a swarm of bees shaken off a bush.
'Run! Run for your lives!' was a cry that rose to heaven.
'Halt, you cowards!' an officer shouted.
It was now past three o clock.
The raw army had been on its feet since midnight. For hours it had
been fighting hunger, a pain in the legs, a quivering sickness at the
stomach, a stubborn foe. It had turned the flank of Beauregard;
victory was in sight. But lo! a new enemy was coming to the fray,
innumerable, unwearied, eager for battle. The long slope bristled
with his bayonets.


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