The lifting smoke disclosed a long line of tossing manes and flashing steel.

At either end of the line a shrill trumpet was sounding the charge, and the Northern bugles were responding with the same command.

The two forces were about to meet in that most terrible of all combats, a cavalry charge by either side, when enemies looked into the eyes of one another, and strong hands swung aloft the naked steel, glittering in the moonlight.
"Bend low in the saddle," exclaimed the sergeant, "and then you'll miss many a stroke!" Dick obeyed promptly and their whole line swept forward over the grass to meet the men in gray who were coming so swiftly against them.

He saw a thousand sabers uplifted, making a stream of light, and then the two forces crashed together.

It seemed to him that it was the impact of one solid body upon another as solid, and then so much blood rushed to his head that he could not see clearly.