Bee and Bartow move down from the Henry House plateau⁠—grey and butternut lines trampling the bullet-cut oak-leaves, splashing across Young’s Branch.

Tall, black-bearded Bee rides by on his strong horse, his long black hair fluttering.

Imboden’s red-shirted gunners unlimber by the Henry House to answer the Parrotts and howitzers of Ricketts and Griffin. The air is a sheet of iron, continually and dully shaken.