This was a surprise to
him, as his thoughts during the night whenever he had been awake had
been full of pleasant anticipations.
The path suddenly came out into an open rolling country, and Sam pulled
up his horse, dismounted, and hiding behind some underbrush, took a
look at the situation. There was a Gatling-gun, worked by a young
officer and five men, a few hundred yards to the right at the edge of
the woods. Beyond to the front he could see a line of troops firing at
the enemy from behind a wall. Of the Cubapinos he could see nothing but
the smoke of their guns and muskets here and there. Shells were falling
in another part of the field, but nowhere near him. Bullets were
flying thick through the air, and he heard them hissing constantly. As
he looked he saw one of the Gatling crew fall over, doubled up in a
heap. Sam moved along in the wood nearer to this gun, so that he might
ask where he could find the brigade commander. As he approached he
heard the lieutenant say:
"Damn those sharp-shooters. They've got our range now. With this damned
smokeless powder they can pick us all off. Clark, bring some of that
artificial smoke stuff here."
The soldier obeyed, and in a few moments a dense smoke rose above them,
covering the whole neighborhood.
"What a wonderful thing these inventions are!" thought Sam, as he tied
his horse to a tree and advanced crouching toward the battery.
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