Our boys halted, and poured in another destructive volley.
The Confederate officers rallied their men, and, maddened by the check they had received, drove them forward to recover the lost ground.
"Once more, boys! Give it to 'em again," cried Tom, as the order to advance was repeated.
His words were only representations of his actions; for, as he spoke, he rushed on a little in front of his comrades, who, however, pressed forward to keep up with him.

He did not exceed the orders of his superior, but he was one of the promptest to obey them.

On dashed the regiment, and again the rebel line recoiled, and soon broke in spite of the admirable efforts of their officers to keep them steady.
"Kearney! Kearney! Kearney is here!" shouted the weary heroes in various parts of the field.
"Down with them!" roared Tom, as the inspiring words rang in his ears.
"Down with them! Kearney has come, and the day is ours!" He had scarcely uttered the words, and sprung forward, before he was seen to drop upon the ground, several paces in front of the line, though the undaunted old Hapgood was close by his side.

The enemy had fled; the danger of being flanked was averted; and when Kearney's men dashed on the field, the sad-hearted veteran, assisted by Fred Pemberton, bore the silent form of the gallant sergeant to the rear.
Kearney and Hancock rushed gallantly to the rescue of the exhausted troops, and Hooker's division was ordered to the rear to act as a reserve.
The strife raged with unabated fury as those who had borne the brunt of the battle slowly fell back to give place to the fresh legions.
Poor Tom was tenderly carried by the wiry veteran and his friends to the surgeon's quarters in the rear.

There were tears in the eyes of the old man as he laid the silent form of his _protege_ upon the wet ground.