Reynolds, so ably pushing the work that Buford had done, was seizing the best positions for his men.

He was acting with rapidity and precision, and the troops under him felt that a great commander was showing them the way.

His vigor secured the slopes and crest of Cemetery Hill, but the Southern masses nevertheless were pouring forward in full tide.
The combat had now lasted about two hours, and, a stray gust of wind lifting the smoke a little, Harry caught a glimpse of a vast blazing amphitheater of battle.

He had regarded it at first as an affair of vanguards, but now he realized suddenly that this was the great battle they had been expecting.

Within this valley and on these ridges and hills it would be fought, and even as the thought came to him the conflict seemed to redouble in fury and violence, as fresh brigades rushed into the thick of it.
Harry's horse was killed by a shell as he rode toward a wood on the Cashtown road, which both sides were making a desperate effort to secure.