Waterbury evening Democrat., 1894-04-21

half his COmInanu across Una, snow GOV cred plain would have swept the field at first and crushed the Confederates back into the narrow highway to become a panic stricken mob. No charge was or dered. The man whose name was to be- come a household word before the end of the war and whose life was to be spared on 20 fields of battle that it might go out with the shouts of Indian demons ringing in his ears sat his horse and watched and waited. He had come to the brigade of stalwart Michiganders few months previously fresh from West Point. He had been called boy, and men and officers had taken no pains to conceal their sarcasm and diStrust. Two or three times he had led them in a dash there, but little fighting resulted. He would test them now, and they should weigh him in the balance. Boom! Boom! Boom! The Confeder- ate battery is the first to open fire, and it is promptly responded to. The very first missile is percussion shell, and it drives its way into the house so lately occupied by the living and the dead, and in its explosion brings wreck and ruin. Twelve guns arc belching their death missiles across the open space when sudden cry rises to the lips of a thou sand men. From the western edge of the plain, where the pines grow thick, a woman suddenly appears to view. She is bareheaded, and her hair is fly ing about her shoulders. She has neither shawl nor cloak, and her dress is rag ged and torn. She has a stick in her hand, and she waves it as if 1t were a sword in the hand of a man and starts at wild run for the eastern edge of the plain, right across the front of the lines drawn up in battle array. The cry of astonishment which greeted her appearance becomes shout of warning, but she does not heed it. Enveloped by the smoke of their guns, the artillerists do not see her. Their hearing deadened by the loud reports, they do not catch the shouts uttered by Federal and Con, federate alike. Round shot and shell go whizzing and shrieking over the snow, and men waiting for E.ttle shudder at the woman's danger.
 Who's that? Halt! Halt! He can never do it! He's sure to be killed!'
 So cried 500 Federals as Steve Bray ton, mounted on the horse of trooper he had been asked to hold for moment, dashed straight out into the plain to head the woman off. He knew her the moment she stepped out of the woods. Uncle Ben had told him of the meeting with Mrs. Baxter on the highway. He had flung her down the bank with tre- mendous force, and as he came back over the road with Custer's men he eX- pected to find her lying there dead. Nothing was to be seen of her, however, and his mind was greatly relieved. In her fall, as was afterward known, the woman's head struck a stone, and the skull was fractured. When she strug- gled up, she was no longer sane. She had been wandering through the forest for hours before she appeared on the battlefield, but she encountered no one and found no shelter. Never was there a more gallant deedthan that performed by Steve Brayton, and never was hero more heartily applauded by friend and foe. He galloped his horse straight at the woman, and as he came up to he1 he leaned over in the saddle, caught her with both hands, and next instant she was on the saddle before him, and the horse was flying back to the Federal lines. The woman fought and screamed, and fragments of bursting shell whizzed and whirred around and above horses and riGers, but they dashed into the lines unhurt, and the gallant 1escue1 was directed to continue down tho road until the woman could be placed beyond danger.
 Turn quick to the south! You will never see a grander spectacle than this. The Confederate command, divided into three divisions, with double lines dressed as if on parade, has received the order to advance. They had waited for Custer to charge, but the chevalier was also strategist. His artillery, being better served, was creating the most havoc, and he could afford to delay. Look! Look! As the gray horsemen begin to move Custer's guns, which have been grouped in front of his center, Timber up and move at gallop-four of them two to the right and two to the left.
  and loaded with grapeshot and canister. The Confederate battery does not follow the example, and as the horsemen move forward the guns are useless.
 "Trot! Gallop! Charge!"
 You hear the bugles sound the order, and you see 2,000 sabers flash in the sunset as 2,000 horsemen thunder over the plain. Give them credit for bravery even to recklessness. Before the horses are of a-trot the murderous grapeshot are knocking them down by dozene, and as the artillerists change to canister 2,000 Federal carbines also open fire.
 Rally! Re-forml Forwardi'
 Above the roar of cannon and mus ketry you can catch the notes of the bugles, and as the smoke lifts here and there in spots the eye can detect the gray horsemen seeking to obey theGalls. They do rally. They do re-formK They do push forward undar that terrible fire, but only to be broken up and swept aside. The Federal artillerists get the order to cease firing. the crackle of mus. ketry dies away, and five minutes later the smoke has drifted off, and the eye can scan the plain. Beaten, broken, slaughtered, and yet the gray horsemen are trying to rally againl
 Now is the moment, and Custer has waited for 1t. Only the dead and wounded are left behind as he moves out, as his entire command sweeps straight across the plain and falls upon