A fuse shell shrieked across the prison--close to the tops of the logs, and burst in the woods beyond.
It was answered with a yell of defiance from ten thousand throats.
I sprang up-my heart in my mouth.

The long dreaded time had arrived; the Rebels had opened the massacre in which they must exterminate us, or we them.
I looked across to the opposite bank, on which were standing twelve thousand men--erect, excited, defiant.

I was sure that at the next shot they would surge straight against the Stockade like a mighty human billow, and then a carnage would begin the like of which modern times had never seen.
The excitement and suspense were terrible.

We waited for what seemed ages for the next gun.

It was not fired.