The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1889-12-06
AT C0ULTER'S NOTCH.

'Do you think, colonel, that your
brave Coulter would like to put one of
his guns in here:" the general asked.
General" he replied warmly, "Coul-
ter would like to put gun anywhere
within reach of those people," with a
motion of his hand in the direction of
the enemy.
"It is the only place." said the gen.
eral. He was serious then.
The ''place" was depression, a notch,
in the sharp crest of hill 1t was a
pass, and through it ran a turnpike,
which, reaching this highest point in its
course by sinuous ascent through the
thin forest, ran straight away toward
the enemy. For mile to the left and a
mile to the right the ridge, though occu-
pied by line of infantry lying close
behind the sharp crest and appearing as
if held in place by atmospheric pressure,
was inaccessible to artillery. There was
no place but the bottom of the notch,
and that was barely wide enough for the
roadbed. From the Confederate side this
point was commanded by an entire bat
terry posted on slightly lower elevation
beyond creek and a mile away. All the
guns but one were masked by the trees
of an orchard; that one-it seemed bit
of impudence-was directly in front Of a
rather grandiose building, the planters
dwelling, The gun was safe enough in
its exposure; the rifles of that day would
not carry mile without such an eleva-
ton as made the fire, in a military sense,
harmless; it might kill here and there,
but could not dislodge. Coulter's notch
it came to be called so-was not, that
pleasant summer afternoon, a place where
one would like to put gum"
''It is the only place." the general re-
peated thoughtfully, ''to get at them" I"
The colonel looked at him gravely.
"There is room for but one gun, general
one against six"
THAT is true-for only one at a time"
said the commander, with something
like, yet not altogether like, smile.
'But then, your brave Coulter-a whole
battery in himself"
The tone of irony was now unmistak-
able. 1t angered the colonel, but he did
not know what to say. The spirit of
military subordination is not favorable
to retort, nor even depreciation. At this
moment young officer of artillery came
riding slowly up the road, attended by
his bugler. 1t was Captain Coulter. He
could not have been more than % years
of age. He was of medium height but
very slender and 1.-the, sitting on his
horse with something of the air of
civilian. lnface he was of type singular
ly unlike the men about him; thin, high
posed, gray-eyed, with q slight blonde
mustaohe, and long, rather struggling,
hair Of the same color.
Moved bya sudden impulse the colonel
signed to him to halt.
capt. Coulter" he said, "the enemy
has battery Of six pieces over there ON
the next ridge, If rightly understand
the general, he directs that you bring up
a gun and engage them"
There was a blank silence; the general
looked stolidly at a distant regiment
swarming slowly up the hill through
rough underground, like torn and
draggled cloud of blue smoke; the cap
tain appeared not to have heard him.
Presently he spoke, slowly, and with ap-
parent effort:
"On the next ridge, did you say, sir?
Are the guns next the house?"
"Ah, you have been over this road be-
fore. Directly at the house."
"And it is necessary - to engage
themE The order is imperativef"
His voice was husky and broken. He
was visibly paler. The colonel was as
tonished and mortified. He stole a
glance at the commander. In that i'm
mobile face was no sign; it was as hard
as bronze. A moment later he rode si-
leptly away, followed by his staff and
escort. The colonel, humillated and in
dignant, was about to order Capt. Coul-
ter in arrest when the latter spoke few
words in low tone to his bugler, sa-
luted and rode straight forward into the
notch, where, shortly, at the summit of
the road, his field glass at his eyes, he
showed against the sky, he and his horse,
sharply defined and motionless as an
equestrian statue. The bugler dashed
down the road in the opposite direction at
headlong speed and disappeared around
the corner. Presently his bugle was
heard singing in the cedars, and in an
Incredibly short time q single gun, with
its caisson, each drawn by six horses
and manned by its full complement of
gunners, came bounding and banging
up the grade in q storm of dust, un-
limbered under cover, and was run for
ward by hand to the fatal crest among
the dead horses. A gesture of the
captains arm, some strangely agile
movements of the men in loading, and,
almost before the troops along the way
had ceased to hear the rattle of the
wheels, great white cloud sprang for
ward down the declivity, and, with a
sharp shock which turned up the white
of the forest leaves like a storm, the
affair at Coulter's notch had begun.
1t is not intended to orelate in detail the
progress and incidents of that ghastly
contest-a contest without yicissitudeS,