Dan said, I came … seized Duffey’s arm and hurled himself backward, and together they fell out from under a scurry of horse-legs. Here were more guns, different guns, they came down across the field over the dead and the living, cracking outstretched legs with their bounding wheels. Order, wiry and high, a hawk-voice from the heat overhead: Will you get your Napoleons in line at once, Lieutenant Cushing? Yes, sirrrrr … all the rebel cannon had stopped, and the smoke was spreading wider; the sun burned it away with fast-recovering strength. The orders talked like neighborhood gossip along the twice-bent wall. Across the valley, the flat extension of Oak Ridge seemed to grow and wiggle. Codoris’ house and barns were out in front, still, the Niede place was there and the Emmetsburg road, but something queer was happening beyond.

Bale said, Look. Everybody said the same thing. Look at. There’s a plentiful number of them … a generous wedge of dirt color, dotted with spikes of pale red, crawling steadily out of the trees more than a mile away. Duffey went down on one knee, then rose again: he staggered and put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. He mumbled thickly: What—doing here—Daniel— Bale cried, “I had to see—” and the activity of the batteries covered his words. The cannoneers were drenched in lamp-black, faces, hands, bare chests, ragged pants. Lieutenant told them, coolly enough: Load. Cannister. Double.

Duffey’s head seemed to come loose on his thick neck. He bowed, shaking it, and pushing his sticky hands up over the mat of gray hair. “I’ve men back there by the barns,” he said, “men to see after. Will you be with me?”

“I can’t,” Bale told him. “Got to wait here for Seventy-second Pennsylvania, don’t know where they are, they must be coming down here soon.” Be sure and let the skirmishers under your range before you fire, a lot of aggrieved people were saying. The men began to squat down, all along the stone wall. Doctor Duffey went back toward the crest of the ridge, going rather blindly. He stooped above one man, got up and went on.

The western face of the flat valley was shifting, a brown sand that turned itself over and over, and now the pale red spikes became flags. Plentiful number. Bet a paper dollar they don’t get to this wall. Take you, Charlie; sure as hell they will. Dan looked into the face of Captain Ballou. “Oh, great God in heaven,” the captain howled, “now I know you’re crazy! Get to the rear, man, while you’ve a chance!”