How wonderfully these Southerners were like the Northerners! He noticed presently a half-dozen other sharpshooters in the Confederate butternut, prowling among the bushes, and through an opening he saw his own people to the west, but too far away to be reached by anything but artillery.
The slow, deep music of the Northern guns came steadily to his ear, but their fire was always turned toward Vicksburg.
Dick knew that his position was extremely critical.

Perhaps it was growing more so all the while, but he was never cooler.

A quiet lad, he always rose wonderfully to an emergency.

He was quite sure that he was among Mississippi troops, and they could not possibly know all the soldiers from the other states gathered for the defense of Vicksburg.

He did not differ from those around him in any respect, except that he did not carry a rifle.
He paused and looked back thoughtfully at the distant Union troops.
"Can you tell me how they're posted ?" he said to a tall, thin middle-aged man who had a chew of tobacco in his cheek.