One never rises; the other, a lad of only eighteen, is shot through the thigh, and one of his comrades turns back to bear him to a place of safety.

The advancing Confederates are within thirty feet, when one of them fires, and his bullet strikes a tree directly above the head of the Union soldier.

He turns, levels his musket, and the Confederate is in eternity.

Then the rest are upon him; but, zigzagging from tree to tree, he is soon with his driven column.

But not far are the brave boys driven.