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Updated: June 2, 2025
Leaving this little band to protect their right, the main line, which had come up on the left, leaped the fence at the south edge of the cornfield, and charged up hill across the open at the enemy in front. But the concentrated fire of artillery and musketry was more than they could bear. Men fell by scores and hundreds, and the thinned lines gave way and ran for the shelter of the corn.
Copyright, 1915, by John T. Frederick. Copyright, 1916, by Walter J. Muilenburg. The boy on the cultivator straightened as the horses walked from the soft, spongy ground of the cornfield to the firmer turf at the side of the road. He spoke sharply to the plodding team and turned the cultivator around, lowering the blades for another row.
"We'd better get out of here," Bennett said. "I'd rather not be discovered at this point. When your friend Scott comes back I'll tell you what has happened." Scotty rejoined them as they reached the cornfield again. They walked with Bennett to his car, and listened to an explanation that made everything clear. "This is a game as old as mining," Bennett told them.
A gentle wind soon dissipated this smoke, and showed us a clear sky overhead. The direction of the wind was in our favor. The ground selected for deciding the fate of that day was a huge cornfield, somewhat exceeding two miles in length and about half a mile in width. The western extremity of this field rested upon the ridge which gave name to the battle-ground.
"We'll meet him with the timbrel and the harp. Anybody want to wager? I've got two to one on a short brunette," said Wilson. "Follow it far enough and it may pass the bend in the river where the water laughs eternally over its shallows." A CORNFIELD in July is a hot place.
While moving through the cornfield, the enemy opened fire with grape and canister from two brass guns on our front, and shell from a battery on our right. It was by this fire that Col. Barlow fell, dangerously wounded. He was struck by a small piece of shell in the face, and a grape-shot in the groin. Thus far he had handled the two regiments in the most brave and skillful manner.
And, wandering around in the cornfield, vainly seeking his mother's cabin, baffled in his efforts, and finding that crying was of no avail, tired, frightened, and dispirited, he leaned his head against a clump of cornstalks, and, falling gently from the support to the soft soil, he dropped asleep as the darkness came on. But where was Tom?
And here I witnessed a new and pretty antic of a tree sparrow, which flew over from a cornfield hard by and perched on a dogwood sapling only a few feet away; then it plunged its beak into the little snowbank on the twig before it and ate greedily of the snow, some of the crystals clinging to its mandibles, just as the crumbs adhere to the lips of a hungry boy.
Claude was sure they had. "Nobody ever goes near the place except Father; he stops there sometimes. Maybe he has seen them and never said a word. It would be just like him." He told them he had scattered shelled corn in the grass, so that the birds would not be tempted to fly over into Leonard Dawson's cornfield. "If Leonard saw them, he'd likely take a shot at them."
He had stood there until Frank, left alone with the boy, had started toward the cornfield, tail erect, eyes fierce. Then the man had turned hurriedly and entered the woods. But the man was still down there. So were those other people. Frank's nose told him that. Therefore his eyes were deep with trouble and he followed close at the boy's heels. Tommy's objective he knew well enough.
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