Nothing clearly was left to him now but to remain where he
was--within supporting distance, and await the issue of the fight
beyond. He was putting up his glass, when the dull boom of cannon in
the extreme western limit of the horizon attracted his attention. By the
still gleaming sky he could see a long gray line stealing up from
the valley from the distant rear of the headquarters to join the main
column. They were the missing supports! His heart leaped. He held the
key of the mystery now. The one imperfect detail of the enemy's plan was
before him. The supports, coming later from the west, had only seen
the second signal from the window--when Miss Faulkner had replaced
the vase--and had avoided his position. It was impossible to limit the
effect of this blunder. If the young girl who had thus saved him had
reached the division commander with his message in time, he might
be forewarned, and even profit by it. His own position would be less
precarious, as the enemy, already engaged in front, would be unable to
recover their position in the rear and correct the blunder. The bulk
of their column had already streamed past him. If defeated, there
was always the danger that it might be rolled back upon him--but he
conjectured that the division commander would attempt to prevent the
junction of the supports with the main column by breaking between them,
crowding them from the ridge, and joining him.
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