“Re-equipped at Harper’s Ferry, sir,” the aide said.

“I’m sorry?” Lee asked, thinking he must have misheard the aide.

Hudson’s voice rose in sudden excitement. “They’re our men in Yankee coats, sir. It’s our banner!”

Lee smiled. “The flags look alike when there’s no wind.”

“It’s our banner, sir!” Hudson insisted. “It is, sir!” And suddenly the splintering sound of musketry echoed across the landscape and the far-off blue-coated troops were whitened by smoke as they fired a volley at other troops, also blue-coated. New guns were unlimbering and their fire was streaking slantwise across the attacking Yankee troops. It was the Light Division, come at last, and Lee closed his eyes as though he was at prayer. “Well done, Hill,” he murmured, “well, well done.” He would not have to eat McClellan’s humble pie. More troops appeared to the south, these in gray, and suddenly the Yankee advance, which had reached almost to the gardens at the edge of Sharpsburg, was checked.

For the Light Division had arrived.

Lucifer, pulling the lanyard that had fired the gun, saw the two shots fired from the edge of the trees. A heartbeat later he connected the two shots with the two bodies on the gun’s far side. Potter was flat on his belly, Starbuck was on his knees, but with his head on the ground spilling blood. Neither man moved until Starbuck, after a hopeless effort to straighten up, collapsed.

Lucifer shouted in anger and drew his revolver. He ran toward the patches of smoke, tugging the small dog along by its leash.

Colonel Swynyard realized a second after Lucifer that the shots had been fired from the rebel side. He started after the boy and saw one man rise up out of the brush. Lucifer had drawn his revolver and was pointing it at the man. The Colonel shouted at him. “No! No, boy! No!”

Lucifer did not care. He fired, and his bullet went wide up into the trees. He slowed to take proper aim, knowing that the man who had shot Starbuck would need twenty seconds to reload his rifle. “Murderer!” he screamed at Case and raised the revolver again.

Case dropped the trigger guard and put his last cartridge into the breech of the Sharps. He snapped the guard up and thumbed the percussion cap into place.

Lucifer fired again, but even at twenty yards a revolver was inaccurate.

“No!” Swynyard called again and ran after the boy.

Case raised the gun. He saw the look of terror dawn on Lucifer’s face and that look pleased him. He was grinning as he fired.

The boy was plucked backward. The force of the heavy bullet was so great that it lifted him off the ground and tugged the small dog back with him. The dog yelped in terror as Lucifer fell back, then whined as the small body twitched. Blood was pumping out of a hole in Lucifer’s skull and the twitching stopped quickly.

Swynyard stooped by the boy, but knew he was dead long before he put a hand on the small throat. He looked up at Case, who shrugged. “He was shooting at me, Colonel,” Case said, “you saw him.”