Heth, Davis, Archer and the others were pushing on their troops, shouting encouragement to them, and occasionally, through the clouds of smoke, which were thickening fast, Harry saw the tanned faces of their enemies loading and firing as fast as they could handle rifle and cannon.

The Northern men had shelter, but were fewer in number.

The soldiers in gray were suffering the heavier losses, but they continued to advance.
The battle swelled in volume and fierceness along the banks of Willoughby Run.

There was a continuous roar of rifles and cannon, and the still, heavy air of the morning conducted the sound to the divisions that were coming up and to the trembling inhabitants of the little town who had fled for refuge to the farmhouses in the valley.
Harry and George had still managed to keep close together.

Both had been grazed by bullets, but these were only trifles.