Then, as the storm decreased rapidly the trumpets sounded the charge, and horse, foot and artillery, they pressed forward eagerly through the mud.
The sun broke through the clouds, and Dick saw before them a wood, a ravine full of thickets, and the road commanded by strong artillery.
The Northern skirmishers were already stealing forward through the wet bushes and grass, and soon their rifles were crackling.

But the Southern sharpshooters in the thickets were in stronger force, and their rapid and accurate fire drove back the Northern men.

Then their artillery opened and swept the road, while the Northern batteries were making frantic efforts to get up through the deep, sticky mud.
But the trumpets were still calling.

The Winchester regiment and others, eager for battle and victory, swept forward.

Dick felt once more the fierce thrill of combat, and, waving his revolver high above his head, he shouted with the others as they rushed on.