The smoke rose and hung in clouds over the hills, the valley and the cornfield.

The hot air, surcharged with dust, smoke and burned gunpowder, was painful and rasping to the throat.

The frightful screaming of the shells filled the air, and then came the hissing of the bullets like a storm of sleet.
Colonel Winchester and his staff dismounted, giving their horses to an orderly who led them to the rear.

Horses would not be needed for the present, at least, and they had learned to avoid needless risk.
The attack was coming closer, and the bullets as they swept through their ranks found many victims.

Colonel Winchester ordered his regiment to kneel and open fire, being held hitherto in reserve.