"Well, Morris," said the officer, returning his subordinate's salute.
"Lieutenant Price directed me to tell you, sir, that most of the infantry has been withdrawn. We have not sufficient support."
"Yes, I know."
"I am to say that some of our men have been out over the works a hundred yards and report that our front is not picketed."
"Yes."
"They were so far forward that they heard the enemy."
"Yes."
"They heard the rattle of the wheels of artillery and the commands of officers."
"Yes."
"The enemy is moving toward our works."
Captain Ransome, who had been facing to the rear of his line—toward the point where the brigade commander and his cavalcade had been swallowed up by the fog—reined his horse about and faced the other way. Then he sat motionless as before.
"Who are the men who made that statement?" he inquired, without looking at the sergeant; his eyes were directed straight into the fog over the head of his horse.
"Corporal Hassman and Gunner Manning."
