They relieved one another throughout the day and at night, tired but cheerful, drew up their boat at a point, where there was a narrow stretch of grass between the water and the cliff, with a rope ferry three or four hundred yards farther on.

"We'll tie up the boat here, cook supper and sleep on dry ground," said Jarvis.



CHAPTER X

OVER THE MOUNTAINS

The boat was secured firmly among the bushes, and finding an abundance of fallen wood along the beach, they pulled it into a heap and kindled a fire. The night, as usual, was cool, but the pleasant flames dispelled the chill, and the cove was very snug and comfortable after a day of hard and continuous work. Jarvis and Ike did the cooking, at which they were adepts.

"After pullin' a boat ten or twelve hours there's nothin' like somethin' warm inside you to make you feel good," said Jarvis. "Ike, you lunkhead, hurry up with that coffee pot. Me an' Harry can't wait more'n a minute longer."

Ike grinned and hurried. A fine bed of coals had now formed, and in a few minutes a great pot of coffee was boiling and throwing out savory odors. Jarvis took a small flat skillet from the boat and fried the corn cakes. Harry fried bacon and strips of dried beef in another. The homely task in good company was most grateful to him. His face reflected his pleasure.

"Providin' it don't rain on you, campin' out is stimulatin' to the body an' soul," said Jarvis. "You don't know what a genuine appetite is until you live under the blue sky by day, and a starry sky by night. Harry, you'll find three tin plates in the locker in the boat. Fetch 'em."

Harry abandoned his skillet for a moment, and brought the plates. Ike, the coffee now being about ready, produced three tin cups, and with these simple preparations they began their supper. The flames went down and the fire became a great bed of coals, glowing in the darkness, and making a circle of light, the edges of which touched the boat. Harry found that Jarvis was telling the truth. The long work and the cool night air, without a roof above him, gave him a hunger, the like of which he had not known for a long time. He ate cake after cake of the corn bread and piece after piece of the meat. Jarvis and Ike kept him full company.

"Didn't I tell you it was fine?" said Jarvis, stretching his long length and sighing with content. "I feel so good that I'm near bustin' into song."

"Then bust," said Harry.

"Soft, o'er the fountain, lingering falls the southern moon, Far o'er the mountain breaks the day too soon. In thy dark eyes' splendor, where the warm light loves to dwell, Weary looks yet tender, speak their fond farewell. 'Nita, Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part, 'Nita, Juanita! Lean thou on my heart."

The notes of the old melody swelled, and, as before, the deep channel of the river gave them back again in faint and dying echoes. Time and place and the voice of Jarvis, with its haunting quality, threw a spell over Harry. The present rolled away. He was back in the romantic old past, of which he had read so much, with Boone and Kenton and Harrod and the other great forest rangers.

The darkness sank down, deeper and heavier. The stars came out presently and twinkled in the blue. Yet it was still dim in the gorge, save where the glowing bed of coals cast a circle of light. The Kentucky, showing a faint tinge of blue, flowed with a soft murmur. Harry and Ike were lying on the grass, propped each on one elbow, while Jarvis, sitting with his back against a small tree, was still singing:

"When in thy dreaming, moons like these shall shine again And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by, 'Nita, Juanita, let me linger by thy side; 'Nita, Juanita, be thou my own fair bride."

The song ceased and the murmur of the river came more clearly. Harry was drawn deeper and deeper into the old dim past. Lying there in the gorge, with only the river to be seen, the wilderness came back, and the whole land was clothed with the mighty forests. He brought himself back with an effort, when he saw Jarvis looking at him and smiling.

"'Tain't so bad down here on a spring night, is it, Harry?" he said. "Always purvidin', as I said, that it don't rain."

"Where did you get that song, Sam?" asked Harry—they had already fallen into the easy habit of calling one another by their first names.

"From a travelin' feller that wandered up into our mount'ins. He could play it an' sing it most beautiful, an' I took to it right off. It grips you about the heart some way or other, an' it sounds best when you are out at night on a river like this. Harry, I know that you're goin' through our mountins to git to Richmond an' the war. Me an' that lunkhead Ike, my nephew, hev took a likin' to you. Now, what do you want to git your head shot off fur? S'pose you stop up in the hills with us. The huntin's good thar, an' so's the fishin'."

Harry shook his head, but he was very grateful.

"It's good of you to ask me," he said, "but I'm bound to go on."

"Wa'al, if you're boun' to do it I reckon you jest have to, but we're leavin' the invite open. Ef you change your mind on the trip all you've got to do is to say so, an' we'll take you in, ain't that so, Ike?"

Ike grinned and nodded. His uncle looked at him admiringly.

"Ike's a lunkhead," he said, "but he's great to travel with. You kin jest talk an' talk an' he never puts in, but agrees with all you say. Now, fellers, we'll put out the fire an' roll in our blankets. I guess we don't need to keep any watch here."

Harry was soon in a dreamless sleep, but his momentary reversion to the wilderness awoke him after a while. He sat up in his blankets and looked around. A mere mass of black coals showed where the fire had been, and two long dark objects looking like logs in the dim light were his comrades.

He cast the blankets aside entirely and walked a little distance up the stream. The instinct that had awakened him was right. He heard voices and saw a light. Then he remembered the rope ferry and he had no doubt that some one was crossing, although it was midnight and past. He went back and touched Jarvis lightly on the shoulder. The mountaineer awoke instantly and sat up, all his faculties alert.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"People crossing the river at the ferry above," Harry whispered back.

"Then we'll go and see who they are. Like as not they're soldiers in this war that people seem bound to fight, when they could have a lot more fun at home. Jest let Ike sleep on. He's my sister's son, but I don't b'lieve anybody would ever think of kidnappin' him."

The two went silently among the bushes toward the ferry which crossed the river at a point where the hills on either side dipped low. As they drew near, they heard many voices and the lights increased to a dozen. Jarvis's belief that it was no party of ordinary travelers seemed correct.

"Let's go a little nearer. The bushes will still hide us," whispered the mountaineer to the boy. "They ain't no enemies o' ours, but I guess we'd better keep out o' their business, though my inquirin' turn o' mind makes me anxious to see just who they are."

They walked to the end of the stretch of bushes, and, while yet in shelter, could see clearly all that was going on, especially as there was no effort at concealment on the part of those who were crossing the stream. They numbered at least two hundred men, and all had arms and horses, although they were dismounted now, and the horses, accompanied by small guards, were being carried over the river first. Evidently the men understood their work, as it was being done rapidly and without much noise.

Harry's attention was soon concentrated on three men who stood near the edge of the bushes, not more than thirty feet away. They wore slouch hats and were wrapped in heavy, dark cloaks. They stood with their backs to him, and although they seemed to be taking no part in the management of the crossing, they watched everything intently. Two of them were very tall, but the third was shorter and slender.

The moon brightened presently, and some movement at the ferry caused the three men to turn. Harry started and checked an exclamation at his lips. But the watchful mountaineer had noted his surprise.

"I guess you know 'em, Harry," he said.

"Yes," replied the boy. "See the one in the center with the drooping mustaches and the splendid figure. People have called him the handsomest man in the United States. He was a guest at my father's house last year when he was running for the presidency. It is the man who received more popular votes than Lincoln, but fewer in the Electoral College."

"Breckinridge?"

"Yes, John C. Breckinridge."

"Why, he's younger than I expected. He don't look more'n forty."

"Just about forty, I should say. The other tall man is named Morgan, John H. Morgan. I saw him in Lexington once. He's a great horseman. The third, the slender man who looks as if he were all fire, is named Duke, Basil Duke. I think that he and Morgan are related. I fancy they are going south, or maybe to Virginia."

"Harry, these are your people."

"Yes, Sam, they are my people."

The mountaineer glanced at the tall youth who had found so warm a place in his heart, and hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he spoke in a decided whisper.

"Since they are your people an' are goin' on the same business that you are, though mebbe not by the same road, now is your time to join 'em, 'stead o' workin' your way 'cross the hills with two ignorant mountaineers like me an' that lunkhead, Ike, my nephew."

"No, Sam. I'll confess to you that it's a temptation, but it's likely that they're not going where I mean to go, and where I should go. I'm going to keep on with you unless you and Ike throw me out of the boat."

"Well spoke, boy," said Jarvis.

He did not tell Harry that Colonel Kenton had asked him to watch over his son until he should leave him in the mountains, and that he had given him his sacred promise. He understood what a powerful pull the sight of Breckinridge, Morgan and Duke had given to Harry, and he knew that if the boy were resolved to go with them he could not stop him.

All the horses were now across. The three leaders took their places in the boat, reached the farther shore and the whole company rode away in the darkness. Despite his resolution Harry felt a pang when the last figure disappeared.

"Our curiosity bein' gratified, I think we'd better go back to sleep," said Jarvis.

"The anchor's weighed, farewell, farewell!"

"We're seein' 'em goin' south, Harry. I dream ahead sometimes, an' I dream with my eyes open. I've seen the horsemen ridin' in the night, an' I see 'em by the thousands ridin' over a hundred battle fields, their horses' hoofs treadin' on dead men."

"Those are good men, brave and generous."

"Oh, I don't mean them in partickler. Not for a minute. I mean a whole nation, strugglin' an' strugglin' an' swayin' an' swayin'. I see things that people neither North nor South ain't dreamed of yet. But sho! What am I runnin' on this way fur? That lunkhead, Ike, my nephew, ain't such a lunkhead as he looks. Them that say nothin' ain't never got nothin' to take back, an' don't never make fools o' theirselves. It's time we was back in our blankets sleepin' sound, 'cause we've got another long day o' hard rowin' before us."

Ike had not awakened and Jarvis and Harry were soon asleep again. But they were up at dawn, and, after a brief breakfast, resumed their journey on the river, going at a good pace toward the southeast. They were hailed two or three times from the bank by armed men, whether of the North or South Harry could not tell, but when they revealed themselves as mere mountaineers on their way back, having sold a raft, they were permitted to continue. After the last such stop Jarvis remarked rather grimly:

"They don't know that there are three good rifles in this boat, backed by five or six pistols, an' that at least two of us, meanin' me and Ike, are 'bout the best shots that ever come out o' the mountains."

But his good nature soon returned. He was not a man who could retain anger long, and before night he was singing again.

"As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day To muse on the beauties of June, 'Neath a jessamine shade I espied a fair maid And she sadly complained to the moon."

"But it's not June, Sam," said Harry, "and there is no moon."

"No, but June's comin' next month, an' the moon's comin' tonight; that is, if them clouds straight ahead don't conclude to j'in an' make a fuss."

The clouds did join, and they made quite a "fuss," pouring out a great quantity of rain, which a rising wind whipped about sharply. But Jarvis first steered the boat under the edge of a high bank, where it was protected partly, and they stretched the strong canvas before the first drops of rain fell. It was sufficient to keep the three and all their supplies dry, and Harry watched the storm beat.

Sullen thunder rolled up from the southwest, and the skies were cut down the center by burning strokes of lightning. The wind whipped the surface of the river into white foamy waves. But Harry heard and beheld it all with a certain pleasure. It was good to see the storm seek them, and yet not find them—behind their canvas cover. He remained close in his place and stared out at the foaming surface of the water. Back went his thoughts again to the far-off troubled time, when the hunter in the vast wilderness depended for his life on the quickness of eye and ear. He had read so much of Boone and Kenton and Harrod, and his own great ancestor, and the impression was so vivid, that the vision was translated into fact.

"I'm feelin' your feelin's too," said Jarvis, who, glancing at him, had read his mind with almost uncanny intuition. "Times like these, the Injuns an' the wild animals all come back, an' I've felt 'em still stronger way up in the mountains, where nothin' of the old days is gone 'cept the Injuns. Ike, I guess it's cold grub for us tonight. We can't cook anythin' in all this rain. Reach into that locker an' bring out the meat an' bread. This ain't so bad, after all. We're snug an' dry, an' we've got plenty to eat, so let the storm howl:

"They bore him away when the day had fled, And the storm was rolling high, And they laid him down in his lonely bed, By the light of an angry sky,

"The lightning flashed and the wild sea lashed The shore with its foaming wave, And the thunder passed on the rushing blast As it howled o'er the rover's grave."

The full tenor rose and swelled above the sweep of wind and rain, and the man's soul was in the words he sang. A great voice with the accompaniment of storm, the water before them, the lightning blazing at intervals, and the thunder rolling in a sublime refrain, moved Harry to his inmost soul. The song ceased, but its echo was long in dying on the river.

"Did you pick up that, too, from a wandering fiddler?" asked Harry.

"No, I don't know where I got it. I s'pose I found scraps here an' thar, but I like to sing it when the night is behavin' jest as it's doin' now. I ain't ever seen the sea, Harry, but it must be a mighty sight, particklarly when the wind's makin' the high waves run."

"Very likely you'd be seasick if you were on it then. I like it best when the waves are not running."

The thunder and lightning ceased after a while, but the rain came with a steady, driving rush. The night had now settled down thick and dark, and, as the banks on either side of the river were very high, Harry felt as if they were in a black canyon. He could see but dimly the surface of the river. All else was lost in the heavy gloom. But the boat had been built so well and the canvas cover was so taut and tight that not a drop entered. His sense of comfort increased, and the regular, even, musical thresh of the rain promoted sleep.

"We won't be waked up tonight by people crossin' the river, that's shore," said Jarvis, "'cause thar ain't no crossin' fur miles, an' if there was a crossin' people wouldn't use that crossin' nohow on a night like this. So, boys, jest wrap your blankets about yourselves an' go to sleep, an' if you don't hurry I'll beat you to that happy land."

The three were off to the realms of slumber within ten minutes, running a race about equal. The rain poured all through the night, but they did not awake until the young sun sent the first beams of day into the gorge. Then Jarvis sat up. He had the faculty of awakening all at once, and he began to furl the canvas awning that had served them so well. The noise awoke the boys who also sat up.

"Get to work, you sleepy heads!" called Jarvis cheerfully. "Look what a fine world it is! Here's the river all washed clean, an' the land all washed clean, too! Stir yourselves, we're goin' to have hot food an' coffee here on the boat.

"I'm dreaming now of Hallie, sweet Hallie, For the thought of her is one that never dies. She's sleeping in the valley And the mocking bird is singing where she lies. Listen to the mocking bird, singing o'er her grave. Listen to the mocking bird, singing where the weeping willows wave."

"You sing melancholy songs for one who is as cheerful as you are, Sam," said Harry.

"That's so. I like the weepy ones best. But they don't really make me feel sad, Harry. They jest fill me with a kind o' longin' to reach out an' grab somethin' that always floats jest before my hands. A sort o' pleasant sadness I'd call it.

"Ah, well I yet remember When we gathered in the cotton side by side; 'Twas in the mild September And the mocking bird was singing far and wide. Oh, listen to the mocking bird Still singing o'er her grave. Oh, listen to the mocking bird Still singing where the weeping willows wave."

"Now that ain't what you'd call a right merry song, but I never felt better in my life than I did when I was singin' it. Here you are, breakfast all ready! We'll eat, drink an' away. I'm anxious to see our mountains ag'in."

The boat soon reached a point where lower banks ran for some time, and, from the center of the stream, they saw the noble country outspread before them, a vast mass of shimmering green. The rain had ceased entirely, but the whole earth was sweet and clean from its great bath. Leaves and grass had taken on a deeper tint, and the crisp air was keen with blooming odors.

Although they soon had a considerable current to fight, they made good headway against it. Harry's practice with the oar was giving his muscles the same quality like steel wire which those of Jarvis and Ike had. So they went on for that day and others and drew near to the hills. The eyes of Jarvis kindled when he saw the first line of dark green slopes massing themselves against the eastern horizon.

"The Bluegrass is mighty fine, an' so is the Pennyroyal," he said, "an' I ain't got nothin' ag'in em. I admit their claims before they make 'em, but my true love, it's the mountains an' my mountain home. Mebbe some night, Harry, when we tie up to the bank, we'll see a deer comin' down to drink. What do you say to that?"

Harry's eyes kindled, too.

"I say that I want the first shot."

Jarvis laughed.

"True sperrit," he said. "Nobody will set up a claim ag'inst you, less it's that lunkhead, Ike, my nephew. Are you willin' to let him have it, Ike?"

Ike grinned and nodded.

The Kentucky narrowed and the current grew yet stronger. But changing oftener at the oars they still made good headway. The ranges, dark green on the lower slopes, but blue on the higher ridges beyond them, slowly came nearer. Late in the afternoon they entered the hills, and when night came they had left the lowlands several miles behind. They tied up to a great beech growing almost at the water's edge, and made their camp on the ground. Harry's deer did not come that night, but it did on the following one. Then Jarvis and he after supper went about a mile up the stream, stalking the best drinking places, and they saw a fine buck come gingerly to the river. Harry was lucky enough to bring him down with the first shot, an achievement that filled him with pride, and Jarvis soon skinned and dressed the animal, adding him to their larder.

"I don't shoot deer, 'cept when I need 'em to eat," said Jarvis, "an' we do need this one. We'll broil strips of him over the coals in the mornin'. Don't your mouth water, Harry?"

"It does."

The strips proved the next day to be all that Jarvis had promised, and they continued their journey with renewed elasticity, fair weather keeping them company. Deeper and deeper they went into the mountains. The region had all the aspects of a complete wilderness. Now and then they saw smoke, which Jarvis said was rising from the chimneys of log cabins, and once or twice they saw cabins themselves in sheltered nooks, but nobody hailed them. The news of the war had spread here, of course, but Harry surmised that it had made the mountaineers cautious, suppressing their natural curiosity. He did not object at all to their reticence, as it made traveling easier for him.

They were now rowing along a southerly fork of the Kentucky. Another deer had been killed, falling this time to the rifle of Jarvis, and one night they shot two wild turkeys. Jarvis and his nephew would arrive home full handed in every respect, and his great tenor boomed out joyously over the stream, speeding away in echoes among the lofty peaks and ridges that had now turned from hills into real mountains. They towered far above the stream, and everywhere there were masses of the deepest and densest green. The primeval forest clothed the whole earth, and the war to which Harry was going seemed a faint and far thing.

Traveling now became slow, because they always had a strong current to fight. Harry, at times when the country was not too rough, left the boat and walked along the bank. He could go thus for miles without feeling any weariness. Naturally very strong, he did not realize how much his work at the oar was increasing his power. The thin vital air of the mountains flowed through his lungs, and when Jarvis sang, as he did so often, he felt that he could lift up his feet and march as if to the beat of a drum.

They left the fork of the Kentucky at last and rowed up one of the deep and narrow mountain creeks. Peaks towered all about them, a half mile over their heads, covered from base to crest with unbroken forest. Sometimes the creek flowed between cliffs, and again it opened out into narrow valleys. In a two days' journey up its course they passed only two cabins.

"In ordinary water we'd have stopped thar," said Jarvis at the second cabin. "I know the man who lives in it an' he's to be trusted. We'd have left the boat an' the things with him, an' we'd have walked the rest of the way, but the creek is so high now that we kin make at least twenty miles more an' tie up at Bill Rudd's place. Thar's no goin' further on the water, 'cause the creek takes a fall of fifteen feet thar, an' this boat is too heavy to be carried around it."

They reached Rudd's place about dark. He was a hospitable mountaineer, with a double-roomed log cabin, a wife and two small children. He volunteered gladly to take care of the boat and its belongings, while Jarvis and the boys went on the next day to Jarvis's home about ten miles away.

Rudd and his wife were full of questions. They were eager to hear of the great world which was represented to them by Frankfort, and of the war in the lowlands concerning which they had heard vaguely. Rudd had been to Frankfort once and felt himself a traveler and man of the world. He and his wife knew Jarvis and Ike well, and they glanced rather curiously at Harry.

"He's goin' across the mountains an' down into Virginia on some business of his own which I ain't inquired into much," said Jarvis.

Harry slept in a house that night for the first time in days, and he did not like it. He awoke once with a feeling as if walls were pressing down upon him, and he could not breathe. He arose, opened the door, and stood by it for a few minutes, while the fresh air poured in. Jarvis awoke and chuckled.

"I know what's the matter with you, Harry," he said. "After you've lived out of doors a long time you feel penned up in houses. If it wasn't for rain an' snow I'd do without roofs 'cept in winter. Leave the door wide open, an' we'll both sleep better. Nothin', of course, would wake that lunkhead, Ike, my nephew. I guess you might fight the whole of Buena Vista right over his head, an' if it was his sleepin' time he'd sleep right on."

They left the next morning, taking with them all of Harry's baggage. Jarvis' boat would remain in the creek at this point, and he and Ike would return in due time for their own possessions. They followed a footpath now, but the walk was nothing to them. It was in truth a relief after so much traveling in the boat.

"My legs are long an' they need straightenin'," said Jarvis. "The ten miles before us will jest about take out the kinks."

Jarvis was a bachelor, his house being kept by his widowed sister, Ike's mother, and old Aunt Suse. Now, as they swung along in Indian file at a swift and easy gait, his joyous spirits bubbled forth anew. Lifting up his voice he sang with such tremendous volume that every peak and ridge gave back an individual echo:

"I live for the good of my nation, And my suns are all growing low, But I hope that the next generation Will resemble old Rosin, the beau.

"I've traveled this country all o'er, And now to the next I will go, For I know that good quarters await me To welcome old Rosin, the beau."

"I suppose you don't know how you got that song, either," said Harry.

"No, it just wandered in an' I've picked it up in parts, here an' thar. See that clump o' laurel 'cross the valley thar, Harry? I killed a black bear in it once, the biggest seen in these parts in our times, an' I kin point you at least five spots in which I've killed deer. You kin trap lots of small game all through here in the winter, an' the furs bring good prices. Oh, the mountains ain't so bad. Look! See the smoke over that low ridge, the thin black line ag'in the sky. It comes from the house o' Samuel Jarvis, Esquire, an' it ain't no bad place, either, a double log house, with a downstairs an' upstairs, an' a frame kitchen behin'. It's fine to see it ag'in, ain't it, Ike?"

Ike smiled and nodded.

In another half hour they crossed the low ridge and swung down into a beautiful little valley, a mile long and a quarter of a mile broad that opened out before them. The smoke still rose from the house, which they now saw clearly, standing among its trees. A brook glinting with gold in the sunshine flowed down the middle of the valley. A luscious greenness covered the whole valley floor. No snugger nook could be found in the mountains.

"As fine as pie!" exclaimed Jarvis exultantly. "Everythin's straight an' right. Ike, I think I see Jane, your mother, standin' in the porch. I'll just give her a signal."

He lifted up his voice and sang "Home, Sweet Home," with tremendous volume. He was heard, as Harry saw a sunbonnet waved vigorously on the porch. The travelers descended rapidly, crossed the brook, and approached the house. A strong woman of middle years shouted joyously and came forward to meet them, leaving a little weazened figure crouched in a chair on the porch.

Mrs. Simmons embraced her brother and son with enthusiasm, and gave a hearty welcome to Harry, whom Jarvis introduced in the most glowing words. Then the three walked to the porch and the bent little figure in the chair. As they went up the steps together old Aunt Suse suddenly straightened up and stood erect. A pair of extraordinary black eyes were blazing from her ancient, wrinkled face. Her hand rose in a kind of military salute, and looking straight at Harry she exclaimed in a high-pitched but strong voice:

"Welcome, welcome, governor, to our house! It is a long time since I've seen you, but I knew that you would come again!"

"Why, what's the matter, Aunt Suse?" asked Jarvis anxiously.

"It is he! The governor! Governor Ware!" she exclaimed. "He, who was the great defender of the frontier against the Indians! But he looks like a boy again! Yet I would have known him anywhere!"

The blazing eyes and tense voice of the old woman held Harry. She pointed with a withered forefinger which she held aloft and he felt as if an electric current were passing from it to him. A chill ran down his back and the hair lifted a little on his head. Jarvis and his nephew stood staring.

"Walk in, governor," she said. "This house is honored by your coming."

Then, and all in a flash, Harry understood. The mind of the old woman dreaming in the sun had returned to the far past, and she was seeing again with the eyes of her girlhood.

"I'm not Henry Ware, Aunt Susan," he said, "but I'm proud to say that I'm his great-grandson. My name is Kenton, Harry Kenton."

The wrinkled forefinger sank, but the light in her eyes did not die.

"Henry Ware, Harry Kenton!" she murmured. "The same blood, and the spirit is the same. It does not matter. Come into our house and rest after your long journey."

Still erect, she stood on one side and pointed to the open door. Jarvis laughed, but it was a laugh of relief rather than amusement.

"She shorely took you, Harry, for your great-grandfather, Henry Ware, the mighty woodsman and Injun fighter that later on became governor of the state. I guess you look as he did when he was near your age. I've heard her tell tales about him by the mile. Aunt Suse, you know, is more'n a hundred, an' she's got the double gift o' lookin' forrard an' back'ard. Come on in, Harry, this house will belong to you now, an' ef at times she thinks you're the great governor, or the boy that Governor Ware was before he was governor, jest let her think it."

With the wrinkled forefinger still pointing a welcome toward the open door Harry went into the house. He spent two days in the hospitable home of Samuel Jarvis. He would have limited the time to a single day, because Richmond was calling to him very strongly now, but it was necessary to buy a good horse for the journey by land, and Jarvis would not let him start until he had the pick of the region.

The first evening after their arrival they sat on the porch of the mountain home. Ike's mother was with them, but old Aunt Suse had already gone to bed. Throughout the day she had called Harry sometimes by his own name and sometimes "governor," and she had shown a wonderful pride whenever he ran to help her, as he often did.

The twilight was gone some time. The bright stars had sprung out in groups, and a noble moon was shining. A fine, misty, silver light, like gauze, hung over the valley, tinting the high green heads of the near and friendly mountains, and giving a wonderful look of softness and freshness to this safe nook among the peaks and ridges. Harry did not wonder that Jarvis and Ike loved it.

"Aunt Suse give me a big turn when she took you fur the governor," said Jarvis to Harry, "but it ain't so wonderful after all. Often she sees the things of them early times a heap brighter an' clearer than she sees the things of today. As I told you, she knowed Boone an' Kenton an' Logan an' Henry Ware an' all them gran' hunters an' fighters. She was in Lexin'ton nigh on to eighty years ago, when she saw Dan'l Boone an' the rest that lived through our awful defeat at the Blue Licks come back. It was not long after that her fam'ly came back into the mountains. Her dad 'lowed that people would soon be too thick 'roun' him down in that fine country, but they'd never crowd nobody up here an' they ain't done it neither."

"Did you ever hear her tell of Henry Ware's great friend, Paul Cotter?" asked Harry.

"Shorely; lots of times. She knowed Paul Cotter well. He wuzn't as tall an' strong as Henry Ware, but he was great in his way, too. It was him that started the big university at Lexin'ton, an' that become the greatest scholar this state ever knowed. I've heard that he learned to speak eight languages. Do you reckon it was true, Harry? Do you reckon that any man that ever lived could talk eight different ways?"

"It was certainly true. The great Dr. Cotter—and 'Dr.' in his case didn't mean a physician, it meant an M. A. and a Ph. D. and all sorts of learned things—could not only speak eight languages, but he knew also so many other things that I've heard he could forget more in a day and not miss it than the ordinary man would learn in a lifetime."

Jarvis whistled.

"He wuz shorely a big scholar," he said, "but it agrees exactly with what old Aunt Suse says. Paul Cotter was always huntin' fur books, an' books wuz mighty sca'ce in the Kentucky woods then."

"Henry Ware and Paul Cotter always lived near each other," resumed Harry, "and in two cases their grandchildren intermarried. A boy of my own age named Dick Mason, who is the great-grandson of Paul Cotter, is also my first cousin."

"Now that's interestin' an' me bein' of an inquirin' min', I'd like to ask you where this Dick Mason is."

Harry waved his hand toward the north.

"Up there somewhere," he said.

"You mean that he's gone with the North, took one side while you've took the other?"

"Yes, that's it. We couldn't see alike, but we think as much as ever of each other. I met him in Frankfort, where he had come from the Northern camp in Garrard County, but I think he left for the East before I did. The Northern forces hold the railways leading out of Kentucky and he's probably in Washington now."

Jarvis lighted his pipe and puffed a while in silence. At length he drew the stem from his mouth, blew a ring of smoke upward and said in a tone of conviction:

"It does beat the Dutch how things come about!"

Harry looked questioningly at him.

"I mean your arrivin' here, bein' who you are, an' your meetin' old Aunt Suse, bein' who she is, an' that cousin of yours, Dick Mason, didn't you say was his name, bein' who he is, goin' off to the North."

They sat on the porch later than the custom of the mountaineers, and the beauty of the place deepened. The moon poured a vast flood of misty, silver light over the little valley, hemmed in by its high mountains, and Harry was so affected by the silence and peace that he had no feeling of anger toward anybody, not even toward Bill Skelly, who had tried to kill him.



CHAPTER XI

IN VIRGINIA

Harry left the valley with the keenest feeling of regret, realizing at the parting how strong a friendship he had formed with this family. But he felt that he could not delay any longer. Affairs must be moving now in the great world in the east, and he wished to be at the heart of them. He had a strong, sure-footed horse, and he had supplies and an extra suit of clothes in his saddle bags. The rifle across his back would attract no attention, as all the men in the mountains carried rifles.

Jarvis had instructed Harry carefully about the road or path, and as the boy was already an experienced traveler with an excellent sense of direction, there was no danger of his getting lost in the wilderness.

Jarvis, Ike, and Mrs. Simmons gave him farewells which were full of feeling. Aunt Suse had come down the brick walk, tap-tapping with her cane, as Harry stood at the gate ready to mount his horse.

"Good-bye, Aunt Susan," he said. "I came a stranger, but this house has been made a home to me."

She peered up at him, and Harry saw that once more her old eyes were flaming with the light he had seen there when he arrived.

"Good-bye, governor," she said, holding out a wrinkled and trembling hand. "I am proud that our house has sheltered you, but it is not for the last time. You will come again, and you will be thin and pale and in rags, and you will fall at the door. I see you coming with these two eyes of mine."

"Hush, Aunt Suse," exclaimed Mrs. Simmons. "It is not Governor Ware, it is his great-grandson, and you mustn't send him away tellin' of terrible things that will happen to him."

"I'm not afraid," said Harry, "and I hope that I'll see Aunt Susan and all of you again."

He lifted her hand and kissed it in the old-fashioned manner.

She smiled and he heard her murmur:

"It is the great governor's way. He kissed my hand like that once before, when I went to Frankfort on the lumber raft."

"Good-bye, Harry," repeated Jarvis. "If you're bound to fight I reckon that's jest what you're bound to do, an' it ain't no good for me to say anythin'. Be shore you follow the trail jest as I laid it out to you an' in two days you'll strike the Wilderness Road. After that it's easy."

When Harry rode away something rose in his throat and choked him for a moment. He knew that he would never again find more kindly people than these simple mountaineers. Then in vivid phrases he heard once more the old woman's prophecy: "You will come again, and you will be thin and pale and in rags, and you will fall at the door." For a moment it shadowed the sunlight. Then he laughed at himself. No one could see into the future.

He was now across the valley and his path led along the base of the mountain. He looked back and saw the four standing on the porch, Jarvis, Ike, Mrs. Simmons, and old Aunt Suse. He waved his hand to them and all four waved back. A singular thrill ran through him. Could it be possible that he would come again, and in the manner that the old woman had predicted?

The path, in another minute, curved around the mountain, and the valley was shut from view. Nor, as he rode on, did he catch another glimpse of it. One might roam the mountains for months and never see the home of Samuel Jarvis.

The two days passed without event. The weather remained fair, and no one interfered with him. He slept the first night at a log cabin that Jarvis had named, having reached it in due time, and the second day he reached, also in due time, the old Wilderness Road.

Thence the boy advanced by easy stages into Virginia until he reached a railroad, where he sold his horse and took a train for Richmond, having come in a few days out of the cool, peaceful atmosphere of the mountains into another, which was surcharged everywhere with the fiery breath of war.

Harry realized as he approached the capital the deep intensity of feeling in everybody. The Virginians were less volatile than the South Carolinians, and they had long refused to go out, but now that they were out they were pouring into the Southern army, and they were animated by an extraordinary zeal. He began to hear new or unfamiliar names, Early, and Ewell, and Jackson, and Lee, and Johnston, and Hill, and Stuart, and Ashby, names that he would never forget, but names that as yet meant little to him.

He had letters from his father and he expected to find his friends of Charleston in Richmond or at the front. General Beauregard, whom he knew, would be in command of the army threatening Washington, and he would not go into a camp of strangers.

It was now early in June, and the country was at its best. On both sides of the railway spread the fair Virginia fields, and the earth, save where the ploughed lands stretched, was in its deepest tints of green. Harry, thrusting his head from the window, looked eagerly ahead at the city rising on its hills. Then a shade smaller than Charleston, it, too, was a famous place in the South, and it was full of great associations. Harry, like all the educated boys of the South, honored and admired its public men. They were mighty names to him. He was about to tread streets that had been trod by the famous Jefferson, by Madison, Monroe, Randolph of Roanoke, and many others. The shades of the great Virginians rose in a host before him.

He arrived about noon, and, as he carried no baggage except his saddle bags and weapons, he was quickly within the city, his papers being in perfect order. He ate dinner, as the noonday meal was then called, and decided to seek General Beauregard at once, having learned from an officer on the train that he was in the city. It was said that he was at the residence of President Davis, called the White House, after that other and more famous one at Washington, in which the lank, awkward man, Abraham Lincoln, now lived.

But Harry paused frequently on the way, as there was nothing to hurry him, and there was much to be seen. If Charleston had been crowded, Richmond was more so. Like all capitals on the verge of a great war, but as yet untouched by its destructive breath, it throbbed with life. The streets swarmed with people, young officers and soldiers in their uniforms, civilians of all kinds, and many pretty girls in white or light dresses, often with flowers in their hair or on their breasts. Light-heartedness and gaiety seemed predominant.

Harry stopped a while to look at the ancient and noble state house, now the home also of the Confederate Congress, standing in Capitol Square, and the spire of the Bell Tower, on Shockoe Hill. He saw important looking men coming in or going out of the square, but he did not linger long, intending to see the sights another time.

He was informed at the "White House" that General Beauregard was there, and sending in his card he was admitted promptly. Beauregard was sitting with President Davis and Secretary Benjamin in a room furnished plainly, and the general in his quick, nervous manner rose and greeted him warmly.

"You did good service with us at Charleston," he said, "and we welcome you here. We have already heard from your father, who was a comrade in war of both President Davis and myself."

"He wrote us that you were coming across the mountains from Frankfort," said Mr. Davis.

Harry thought that the President already looked worn and anxious.

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, "I came chiefly by the river and the Wilderness Road."

"Your father writes that they worked hard at Frankfort, but that they failed to take Kentucky out," continued the head of the Confederacy.

"The Southern leaders did their best, but they could not move the state."

"And you wish, then, to serve at the front?" continued the President.

"If I may," returned Harry. "In South Carolina I was with Colonel Leonidas Talbot. I have had a letter from him here, and, if it is your pleasure and that of General Beauregard, I shall be glad to join his command."

General Beauregard laughed a little.

"You do well," he said. "I have known Colonel Talbot a long time, and, although he may be slow in choosing he is bound to be in the very thick of events when he does choose. Colonel Talbot is at the front, and you'll probably find him closer than any other officer to the Yankee army. We need everybody whom we can get, especially lads of spirit and fire like you. You shall be a second lieutenant in his command. A train will leave here in four hours. Be ready. It will take you part of the way and you will march on for the rest."

Mr. Benjamin did not speak throughout the interview, but he watched Harry closely. Neither did he speak when he left, but he offered him a limp hand. The boy's view of Richmond was in truth brief, as before night he saw its spires and roofs fading behind him. The train was wholly military. There were four coaches filled with officers and troops, and two more coaches behind them loaded with ammunition.

Harry heard from some of the officers that the army was gathered at a place called Manassas Junction, where Beauregard had taken command on June 1st, and to which he would quickly return. But Harry did not know any of these officers and he felt a little lonely. He slept after a while in the car seat, awakened at times by the jolting or stopping of the train, and arrived some time the next day in a country of green hills and red clay roads, muddy from heavy rains.

They left the train, marched over the hills along one of the muddy roads, and presently saw a vast array of tents, fires, and earthworks, stretching to the horizon. Harry's heart leaped again. This was the great army of the South. Here were regiments and regiments, thousands and thousands of men and here he would find his friends, Colonel Talbot and Major St. Hilaire, and St. Clair and Langdon.

The whole scene was inspiring in the extreme to the heart of youth. Far to the right he saw cavalry galloping back and forth, and to the left he saw infantry drilling. From somewhere in front came the strains of a regimental band playing:

"The hour was sad, I left the maid, A lingering farewell taking, Her sighs and tears my steps delayed, I thought her heart was breaking. In hurried words her name I blessed, I breathed the vows that bind me And to my heart in anguish pressed The girl I left behind me."

It was a favorite air of the Southern bands, and, much as it stirred Harry now, he was destined to hear it again in moments far more thrilling. He presented his order from General Beauregard to a sentinel, who passed him to an officer, who in turn told him to go about a quarter of a mile westward, where he would find the regiment of Colonel Talbot quartered.

"It's a mixed regiment," he said, "made up of Virginians, South Carolinians, North Carolinians, and a few Kentuckians and Tennesseeans, but it's already one of the best in the service. Colonel Talbot and his second in command, Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, have been thrashing it into shape in great fashion. They're mostly boys and already they call themselves 'The Invincibles.' You can see the tents of their commanding officers over there by that little creek."

Harry's eyes followed the pointing finger, and again his heart leaped. His friends were there, the two colonels for whom he had such a strong affection, and the two lads of his own age. Theirs looked like a good camp, too. It was arranged neatly, and by its side flowed the clear, cool waters of Young's Branch, a tributary of the little Manassas River. He walked briskly, crossed the brook, stepping from stone to stone, and entered the grounds of the Invincibles. A tall youth rushed forward, seized his hand and shook it violently, meanwhile uttering cries of welcome in an unbroken stream.

"By all the powers, it's our own Harry!" he exclaimed, "the new Harry of the West, whom we were afraid we should never see again. Everything is for the best, but we hardly hoped for this! How did you get here, Harry? And you didn't bring Kentucky rushing to our side, after all! Well, I knew it wasn't your fault, old horse! Ho, St. Clair, come and see who's here!"

St. Clair, who had been lying in the grass behind a tent, appeared and greeted Harry joyfully. But while Langdon was just the same he had changed in appearance. He was thinner and graver, and his intellectual face bore the stamp of rapid maturity.

"It's like greeting one of our very own, Harry," he said. "You were with us in Charleston at the great beginning. We were afraid you would have to stay in the west."

"The big things will begin here," said Harry.

"There can be no doubt of it. Do you know, Harry, that we are less than thirty miles from Washington! If there were any hill high enough around here we could see the white dome of the Capitol which we hope to take before the summer is over. But we'll take you to the Colonel and Major Hector St. Hilaire, that was, but Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire that is."

Colonel Talbot was sitting at a small table in a tent, the sides of which had been raised all around, leaving only a canvas roof. Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire sat opposite him across the table, and they were studying intently a small map of a region that was soon to be sown deep with history. They looked up when Harry came with his two friends, and gave him the welcome that he knew he would always receive from them.

"I've had a letter from your father," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot, "and I've been expecting you. You are to be a lieutenant on my staff, and the quartermaster will sell you a new uniform as glossy and fine as those of which St. Clair and Langdon are so proud."

He asked him a few more questions about Kentucky and his journey over the mountains, and then, telling St. Clair and Langdon to take care of him, he and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire went back to the study of their map. Harry noted that both were tanned deeply and that their faces were very serious.

"Come along, Harry," said Langdon. "Let the colonel and the major bear all the troubles. For us everything is for the best. We've got you on our hands and we're going to treat you right. See that deep pool in the brook, where the big oak throws its shade over the water? It's partly natural and it's partly dammed, but it's our swimming hole. You are covered with dust and dirt. Pull off your clothes and jump in there. We'll protect you from ribald attention. There are other swimming holes along here, but this swimming hole belongs to the Invincibles, and we always make good our rights."

Harry was more than willing. In three minutes he jumped into the deep, cool water, swimming, diving, and shaking himself like a big dog. He had enjoyed no such luxury in many days, and he felt as if he were being re-created. Langdon and St. Clair sat on the bank and gave him instructions.

"Now jump out," Langdon said at the end of five minutes. "You needn't think because you've just come and are in a way a guest, that you can keep this swimming hole all to yourself. A lot more of the Invincibles need bathing and here come some for their chance."

Harry came out reluctantly, and in a few minutes they were on the way to the quartermaster, where the needed uniform, one that appealed gloriously to his eye, was bought. St. Clair was quiet, but Langdon talked enough for all three.

"The Yankee vanguard is only a few miles away," he said. "You don't have to go far before you see their tents, though I ought to say that each side has another army westward in the mountains. There's been a lot of fighting already, though not much of it here. The first shots on Virginia soil were fired on our front the day General Beauregard arrived to take command of our forces."

"How about those troops in the hills?" asked Harry.

"They've been up and doing. A young Yankee general named McClellan has shown a lot of activity. He has beat us in some skirmishes and he has organized troops as far west as the Ohio. Then he and his generals met our general, Garnett, at Rich Mountain. It was the biggest affair of the war so far, and Garnett was killed. Then a curious fellow of ours named Jackson, and Stuart, a cavalry officer, lost a little battle at a place called Falling Waters."

"Has the luck been against us all along the line?"

"Not at all! A cock-eyed Massachusetts politician, one Ben Butler, a fellow of energy though, broke into the Yorktown country, but Magruder thrashed him at Big Bethel. All those things, though, Harry, are just whiffs of rain before the big storm. We're threatening Washington here with our main army, and here is where they will have to meet us. Lincoln has put General Scott, a Virginian, too, in command of the Northern armies, but as he's so old, somebody else will be the real commander."

Harry felt himself a genuine soldier in his new uniform, and he soon learned his new duties, which, for the present, would not be many. The two armies, although practically face to face, refused to move. On either side the officers of the old regular force were seeking to beat the raw recruits into shape, and the rival commanders also waited, each for the other to make the first movement.

Harry and St. Clair were sent that night far toward the front with a small detachment to patrol some hill country. They marched in the moonlight, keeping among the trees, and listening for any sounds that might be hostile.

"It's not likely though that we'll be molested," said St. Clair. "The men on both sides don't yet realize fully that they are here to shoot at one another. This is our place, along a little brook, another tributary of the Manassas."

They stopped in a grove and disposed the men, twenty in number, along a line of several hundred yards, with instructions not to fire unless they knew positively what they were shooting at. Harry and St. Clair remained near the middle of the line, at the edge of the brook, where they sat down on the bank. The country was open in front of them, and Harry saw a distant light.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The campfire of a Yankee outpost. I told you they were very near."

"And that, I suppose, is one of their bugles."

A faint but musical note was brought to them by the light wind blowing in their faces.

"That's what it is. It may be the signal of some movement, but they can't attempt anything serious without showing themselves. Our sentinels are posted along here for miles."

The sound of the bugle continued faint and far away. It had a certain weird effect in the night and the loneliness. Harry wished to know who they were at that far campfire. His own cousin, Dick Mason, might be there.

"Although we're arrayed for war," said St. Clair, "the sentinels are often friendly. They even exchange plugs of tobacco and news. The officers have not been able to stop it wholly. Our sentinels tell theirs that we'll be in Washington in a month, and theirs tell ours that they've already engaged rooms in the Richmond hotels for July."

"When two prophets disagree both can't be right," said Harry. "How far away would you say that light is, Arthur?"

"About a mile and a half. Let's scout a little in that direction. There are no commands against it. Enterprise is encouraged."

"Just what I'd like," said Harry, who was eager for action.

Leaving their own men under the command of a reliable sergeant named Carrick, the two youths crossed the brook and advanced over a fairly level stretch of country toward the fire. Small clusters of trees were scattered here and there, and beyond them was a field of young corn. The two paused in one of the little groves about a hundred yards from their own outposts and looked back. They saw only the dark line of the trees, and behind them, wavering lights which they knew were the campfires of their own army. But the lights at the distance were very small, mere pin points.

"They look more like lanterns carried by 'coon and 'possum hunters than the campfires of an army," said Harry.

"Yes, you'd hardly think they mark the presence of twenty or thirty thousand men," said St. Clair. "Here we are at the cornfield. The plants are not high, but they throw enough shadow to hide us."

They climbed a rail fence, and advanced down the corn rows. The moon was good and there was a plentiful supply of stars, enabling them to see some distance. To their right on a hill was a white Colonial house, with all its windows dark.

"That house would be in a bad place if a battle comes off here, as seems likely," said St. Clair.

"And those who own it are wise in having gone away," said Harry.

"I'm not so sure that they've gone. People hate to give up their homes even in the face of death. Around here they generally stay and put out the lights at dark."

"Well, here we are at the end of the cornfield, and the light is not more than four or five hundred yards away. I think I can see the shadows of human figures against the flames. Come, let's climb the fence and go down through this skirt of bushes."

The suggestion appealed to the daring and curiosity of both, and in a few minutes they were within two hundred yards of the Northern camp. But they lay very close in the undergrowth. They saw a big fire and Harry judged that four or five hundred men were scattered about. Many were asleep on the grass, but others sat up talking. The appearance of all was so extraordinary that Harry gazed in astonishment.

It was not the faces or forms of the men, but their dress that was so peculiar. They were arrayed in huge blouses and vast baggy trousers of a blazing red, fastened at the knee and revealing stockings of a brilliant hue below. Little tasselled caps were perched on the sides of their heads. Harry remembering his geography and the descriptions of nations would have taken them for a gathering of Turkish women, if their masculine faces had been hidden.

"What under the moon are those?" he whispered. "They do look curious," replied St. Clair. "They call them Zouaves, and I think they're from New York. It's a copy of a French military costume which, unless I'm mistaken, France uses in Algeria."

"They'd certainly make a magnificent target on the battlefield. A Kentucky or Tennessee rifleman who'd miss such a target would die of shame."

"Maybe. But listen, they're singing! What do you think of that for a military tune?"

Harry heard for the first time in his life an extraordinary, choppy air, a rapid beat that rose and fell abruptly, sending a powerful thrill through his heart as he lay there in the bushes. The words were nothing, almost without meaning, but the tune itself was full of compelling power. It set the feet marching toward triumphant battle.

"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand, Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom, Look away! Look away! Down South in Dixie!"

Three or four hundred voices took up the famous battle song, as thrilling and martial as the Marseillaise, then fresh and unhackneyed, and they sang it with enthusiasm and fire, officers joining with the men. It was a singular fact that Harry should first hear Northern troops singing the song which was destined to become the great battle tune of the South.

"What is it?" whispered Harry.

"It's called Dixie. They say it was written by a man in New York for a negro minstrel show. I suppose they sing it in anticipation, meaning that they will soon be in the heart of Dixie, which is the South, our South."

"I don't think those baggy red legs will ever march far into our South," whispered Harry defiantly.

"It is to be seen. Between you and me, Harry, I'm convinced there is no triumphant progress ahead for either North or South. Ah, another force is coming and it's cavalry! Don't you hear the hoof-beats, Harry?"

Harry heard them distinctly and he and his comrade lay more closely than ever in the bushes, because the horsemen, a numerous body, as the heavy tread indicated, were passing very near. The two lads presently saw them riding four abreast toward the campfire, and Harry surmised that they had been scouting in strong force toward the Southern front. They were large men, deep with tan and riding easily. Harry judged their number at two hundred, and the tail of the company would pass alarmingly near the bushes in which his comrade and he lay.

"Don't you think we'd better creep back?" he whispered to St. Clair. "Some of them taking a short cut may ride right upon us."

"Yes, it's time to make ourselves scarce."

They turned back, going as rapidly as they dared, but that which Harry had feared came to pass. The rear files of the horsemen, evidently intending to go to the other side of the camp, rode through the low bushes. Four of them passed so near the boys that they caught in the moonlight a glimpse of the two stooping figures.

"Who is there? Halt!" sharply cried one of them, an officer. But St. Clair cried also:

"Run, Harry! Run for your life, and keep to the bushes!"

The two dashed at utmost speed down the strip of bushes and they heard the thunder of horses' hoofs in the open on either flank. A half dozen shots were fired and the bullets cut leaves and twigs about them. They heard the Northern men shouting: "Spies! Spies! After them! Seize them!"

Harry in the moment of extreme danger retained his presence of mind: "To the cornfield, Arthur!" he cried to his comrade. "The fence is staked and ridered, and their horses can't jump it. If they stop to pull it down they will give us time to get away!"

"Good plan!" returned St. Clair. "But we'd better bend down as we run. Those bullets make my flesh creep!"

A fresh volley was sent into the bushes, but owing to the wise precaution of bending low, the bullets went over their heads, although Harry felt his hair rising up to meet them. In two or three minutes they were at the fence, and they went over it almost like birds. Harry heard two bullets hit the rails as they leaped—they were in view then for a moment—but they merely increased his speed, as he and St. Clair darted side by side through the corn, bending low again.

They heard the horsemen talking and swearing at the barrier, and then they heard the beat of hoofs again.

"They'll divide and send a force around the field each way!" said St. Clair.

"And some of them will dismount and pursue us through it on foot!"

"We can distance anybody on foot. Harry, when I heard those bullets whistling about me I felt as if I could outrun a horse, or a giraffe, or an antelope, or anything on earth! And thunder, Harry, I feel the same way now!"

Bullets fired from the fence made the ploughed land fly not far from them, and they lengthened their stride. Harry afterward said that he did not remember stepping on that cornfield more than twice. Fortunately for them the field, while not very wide, extended far to right and left, and the pursuing horsemen were compelled to make a great circuit.

Before the thudding hoofs came near they were over the fence again, and, still with wonderful powers of flight, were scudding across the country toward their own lines. They came to one of the clusters of trees and dashing into it lay close, their hearts pounding. Looking back they dimly saw the horsemen, riding at random, evidently at a loss.

"That was certainly close," gasped St. Clair. "I'm not going on any more scouts unless I'm ordered to do so."

"Nor I," said Harry. "I've got enough for one night at least. I suppose I'll never forget those men with the red bags in place of breeches, and that tune, 'Dixie.' As soon as I get my breath back I'm going to make a bee line for our own army."

"And when you make your bee line another just as fast and straight will run beside it."

They rested five minutes and then fled for the brook and their own little detachment behind it.



CHAPTER XII

THE FIGHT FOR THE FORT

Before they reached the brook they hailed Sergeant Carrick lest they should be fired upon as enemies, and when his answer came they dropped into a walk, still panting and wiping the perspiration from damp foreheads. They bathed their faces freely in the brook, and sat down on the bank to rest. The sergeant, a regular and a veteran of many border campaigns against the Indians, regarded them benevolently.

"I heard firing in front," he said, "and I thought you might be concerned in it. If it hadn't been for my orders I'd have come forward with some of the men."

"Sergeant," said St. Clair, "if you were in the west again, and you were all alone in the hills or on the plains and a band of yelling Sioux or Blackfeet were to set after you with fell designs upon your scalp, what would you do?"

"I'd run, sir, with all my might. I'd run faster than I ever ran before. I'd run so fast, sir, that my feet wouldn't touch the ground more than once every forty yards. It would be the wisest thing one could do under the circumstances, the only thing, in fact."

"I'm glad to hear you say so, Sergeant Carrick, because you are a man of experience and magnificent sense. What you say proves that Harry and I are full of wisdom. They weren't Sioux or Blackfeet back there and I don't suppose they'd have scalped us, but they were Yankees and their intentions weren't exactly peaceful. So we took your advice before you gave it. If you'll examine the earth out there tomorrow you'll find our footprints only five times to the mile."

Far to the right and left other scattering shots had been fired, where skirmishers in the night came in touch with one another. Hence the adventure of Harry and St. Clair attracted but little attention. Shots at long range were fired nearly every night, and sometimes it was difficult to keep the raw recruits from pulling trigger merely for the pleasure of hearing the report.

But when Harry and St. Clair related the incident the next morning to Colonel Talbot, he spoke with gravity.

"There are many young men of birth and family in our army," he said, "and they must learn that war is a serious business. It is more than that; it is a deadly business, the most deadly business of all. If the Yankees had caught you two, it would have served you right."

"They scared us badly enough as it was, sir," said St. Clair.

Colonel Leonidas Talbot smiled slightly.

"That part of it at least will do you good," he said. "You young men don't know what war is, and you are growing fat and saucy in a pleasant country in June. But there is something ahead that will take a little of the starch out of you and teach you sense. No, you needn't look inquiringly at me, because I'm not going to tell you what it is, but go get some sleep, which you will need badly, and be ready at four o'clock this afternoon, because the Invincibles march then and you march with them."

Harry and St. Clair saluted and retired. They knew that it was not worth while to ask Colonel Talbot any questions. Since he had met him again in Virginia, Harry had recognized a difference in this South Carolina colonel. The kindliness was still there, but there was a new sternness also. The friend was being merged into the commander.

They chose a tent in order to shut out the noise and make sleep possible, but on their way to it they were waylaid by Langdon, who had heard something of their adventure the night before, and who felt chagrin because he had lacked a part in it.

"Although everything generally happens for the best, there is a slip sometimes," he said, "and I want to be in on the next move, whatever it is. There is a rumor that the Invincibles are to march. You have been before the colonel, and you ought to know. Is it true?"

"It is," replied Harry, "but that's all we do know. He was pretty sharp with us, Tom, and among our three selves, we are not going to get any favors from Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire because we're friends of theirs and would be likely to meet in the same drawing-rooms, if there were no war."

Harry and St. Clair slept well, despite the noises of a camp, but they were ready at the appointed time, very precise in their new uniforms. Langdon was with them and the three were eager for the movement, the nature of which officers alone seemed to know.

The Invincibles were an infantry regiment and the three youths, like the men, were on foot. They filed off to the left behind the front line of the Southern army, and marched steadily westward, inclining slightly to the north. Many of the men, or rather boys, not yet fast in the bonds of discipline, began to talk, and guess together about their errand. But Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire rode along the line and sternly commanded silence, once or twice making the menace of the sword. The lads scarcely understood it, but they were awed into silence. Then there was no noise but the rattle of their weapons and the steady tread of eight hundred men.

The young troops had been kept in splendid condition, drilling steadily, and they marched well. They passed to the extreme western end of the Confederate camp, and continued into the hills. The sun had passed its zenith when they started and a pleasant, cool breeze blew from the slopes of the western mountains. The sun set late, but the twilight began to fall at last, and they saw about them many places suitable for a camp and supper. But Colonel Talbot, who was now at the head of the line, rode on and gave no sign.

"If I were riding a bay horse fifteen hands high I could go on, too, forever," whispered Langdon to Harry.

"Remember your belief that everything happens for the best and just keep on marching."

The twilight retreated before the dark, but the regiment continued. Harry saw a dusky colonel on a dusky horse at the head of the line, and nearer by was Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, also riding, silent and stern. The Invincibles were weary. It was now nine o'clock, and they had marched many hours without a rest, but they did not dare to murmur, at least not loud enough to be heard by Colonel Leonidas Talbot and his lieutenant-colonel, Hector St. Hilaire.

"I wonder if this is going on all night," whispered Langdon.

"Very likely," returned Harry, "but remember that everything is for the best."

Langdon gave him a reproachful look, but trudged sturdily on. They halted about an hour later, but only for fifteen or twenty minutes. They had now come into much rougher country, steep, with high hills and populated thinly. Westward, the mountains seemed very near in the clear moonlight. No explanation was given to the Invincibles, but the officers rode among the groups and made a careful inspection of arms and equipment. Then the word to march once more was given.

They did not stop, except for short rests, until about three o'clock in the morning, when they came to the crest of a high ridge, covered with dense forest, but without undergrowth. Then the officers dismounted, and the word was passed to the men that they would remain there until dawn, but before they lay down on the ground Colonel Talbot told them what was expected of them, which was much.

"A strong Northern force is encamped on the slope beyond," he said. "It is in a position from which the left flank of our main army can be threatened. Our enemies there are fortified with earthworks and they have cannon. If they hold the place they are likely to increase heavily in numbers. It is our business to drive them out."

The colonel told some of the officers within Harry's hearing that they could attack before dawn, but night assaults, unless with veteran troops, generally defeated themselves through confusion and uncertainty. Nevertheless, he hoped to surprise the Northern soldiers over their coffee. For that reason the men were compelled to lie down in their blankets in the dark. Not a single light was permitted, but they were allowed to eat some cold food, which they brought in their knapsacks.

Although it was June, the night was chill on the high hills, and Harry and his two friends, after their duties were done, wrapped their blankets closely around themselves as they sat on the ground, with their backs against a big tree. The physical relaxation after such hard marching and the sharp wind of the night made Harry shiver, despite his blanket. St. Clair and Langdon shivered, too. They did not know that part of it was that three-o'clock-in-the-morning feeling.

Harry, sensitive, keenly alive to impressions, was oppressed by a certain heavy and uncanny feeling. They were going into battle in the morning—and with men whom he did not hate. The attacks on the Star of the West and Sumter had been bombardments, distant affairs, where he did not see the face of his enemy, but here it would be another matter. The real shock of battle would come, and the eyes of men seeking to kill would look into the eyes of others who also sought to kill.

He and St. Clair were not sleepy, as they had slept through most of the day, but Langdon was already nodding. Most of the soldiers also had fallen asleep through exhaustion, and Harry saw them in the dusk lying in long rows. The faint moon throwing a ghostly light over so many motionless forms made the whole scene weird and unreal to Harry. He shook himself to cast off the spell, and, closing his eyes, sought sleep.

But sleep would not come and the obstinate lids lifted again. It had turned a little darker and the motionless forms at the far end of the line were hidden. But those nearer were so still that they seemed to have been put there to stay forever. St. Clair had yielded at last to weariness and with his back against the tree slept by Harry's side.

He saw four figures moving up and down like ghosts through the shadows. They were Colonel Talbot, Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, and two captains watching their men, seeing that silence and caution were preserved. Harry knew that sentinels were posted further down the ridge, but he could not see them from where he lay. Although it was a long time, the forest and human figures wavered at last, and he dozed for a while. But he soon awoke and saw a faint tint of gray low down in the east, the first timid herald of dawn.

The young soldiers were awakened. They started to rise with a cheerful exchange of chatter, but were sternly commanded to silence. Nevertheless, they talked in whispers and told one another how they would wipe the Yankees off the face of the earth. Workers from the shops in the big cities of the North could not stand before them, the open air sons of the South. They stretched their long limbs, felt their big muscles, and wondered why they were not led forward at once.

But before they marched they were ordered to take food from their knapsacks and eat. Five minutes at most were allowed, and there was to be no nonsense, no loud talking. Some who had come north with negro servants stared at these officers who dared to talk to them as if they were slaves. But the words of anger stopped at their lips. They would take their revenge instead on the Yankees.

Harry and his two friends had fitted themselves already into military discipline and military ways. They ate, not because they were hungry, but because they knew it was a necessity. Meanwhile, the faint gray band in the east was broadening. The note of a bugle, distant, mellow, and musical, came from a point down the slope.

"The Yankee fort," said Langdon. "They're waking up, too. But I'm looking for the best, boys, and inside of two hours that Yankee fort will be a Confederate fort."

The note of the bugle seemed to decide the Southern officers. The men were ordered to see to their arms and march. The officers dismounted as the way would be rough and left their horses behind. The troops formed into several columns and four light guns went down the slope with them. Scouts who had been out in the night came back and reported that the fort, consisting wholly of earthworks, had a garrison of a thousand men with eight guns. They were New York and New England troops and they did not suspect the presence of an enemy. They were just lighting their breakfast fires.

The Southern columns moved forward in quiet, still hidden by the forest, which also yet hid the Northern fort. Harry's heart began to beat heavily, but he forced himself to preserve the appearance of calmness. Pride stiffened his will and backbone. He was a veteran. He had been at Sumter. He had seen the great bombardment, and he had taken a part in it. He must show these raw men how a soldier bore himself in battle, and, moreover, he was an officer whose business it was to lead.

The deep forest endured as they advanced in a diagonal line down the slope. The great civil war of North America was fought mostly in the forest, and often the men were not aware of the presence of one another until they came face to face.

They were almost at the bottom where the valley opened out in grass land, and were turning northward when Harry saw two figures ahead of them among the trees. They were men in blue uniforms with rifles in their hands, and they were staring in surprise at the advancing columns in gray. But their surprise lasted only a moment. Then they lifted their rifles, fired straight at the Invincibles, and with warning shouts darted among the trees toward their own troops.

"Forward, lads!" shouted Colonel Talbot. "We're within four hundred yards of the fort, and we must rush it! Officers, to your places!"

Their own bugle sang stirring music, and the men gathered themselves for the forward rush. Up shot the sun, casting a sharp, vivid light over the slopes and valley. The soldiers, feeling that victory was just ahead, advanced with so much speed that the officers began to check them a little, fearing that the Invincibles would be thrown into confusion.

The forest ended. Before them lay a slope, from which the bushes had been cut away and beyond were trenches, and walls of fresh earth, from which the mouths of cannon protruded. Soldiers in blue, sentinels and seekers of wood for the fires, were hurrying into the earthworks, on the crests of which stood men, dressed in the uniforms of officers.

"Forward, my lads!" shouted Colonel Leonidas Talbot, who was near the front rank, brandishing his sword until the light glittered along its sharp blade. "Into the fort! Into the fort!"

The sun, rising higher, flooded the slopes, the valley, and the fort with brilliant beams. Everything seemed to Harry's excited mind to stand out gigantic and magnified. Black specks began to dance in myriads before his eyes. He heard beside him the sharp, panting breath of his comrades, and the beat of many feet as they rushed on.

He saw the Northern officers on the earthwork disappear, dropping down behind, and the young Southern soldiers raised a great shout of triumph which, as it sank on its dying note, was merged into a tremendous crash. The whole fort seemed to Harry to blaze with red fire, as the heavy guns were fired straight into the faces of the Invincibles. The roar of the cannon was so near that Harry, for an instant, was deafened by the crash. Then he heard groans and cries and saw men falling around him.

In another moment came the swish of rifle bullets, and the ranks of the Invincibles were cut and torn with lead. The young recruits were receiving their baptism of fire and it was accompanied by many wounds and death.

The earthworks in front were hidden for a little while by drifting smoke, but the Invincibles, mad with pain and rage, rushed through it. They were anxious to get at those who were stinging them so terribly, and fortunately for them the defenders did not have time to pour in another volley. Harry saw Colonel Talbot still in front, waving his sword, and near him Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, also with an uplifted sword, which he pointed straight toward the earthwork.

"On, lads, on!" shouted the colonel. "It is nothing! Another moment and the fort is ours!"

Harry heard the hissing of heavy missiles above him. The light guns of the Invincibles had unlimbered on the slope, and fired once over their heads into the fort. But they did not dare to fire again, as the next instant the recruits, dripping red, but still wild with rage, were at the earthworks, and driven on with rage climbed them and fired at the huddled mass they saw below.

Harry stumbled as he went down into the fort, but quickly recovered himself and leaped to his feet again. He saw through the flame and smoke faces much like his own, the faces of youth, startled and aghast, scarcely yet comprehending that this was war and that war meant pain and death. The Invincibles, despite the single close volley that had been poured into them, had the advantage of surprise and their officers were men of skill and experience. They had left a long red trail of the fallen as they entered the fort, but after their own single volley they pressed hard with the bayonet. Little as was their military knowledge, those against them had less, and they also had less experience of the woods and hills.

As the Invincibles hurled themselves upon them the defenders slowly gave way and were driven out of the fort. But they carried two of their cannon with them, and when they reached the wood opened a heavy fire upon the pursuing Southern troops, which made the youngsters shiver and reel back.

"They, too, have some regular officers," said Colonel Talbot to Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire. "It's a safe wager that several of our old comrades of Mexico are there."

Thus did West Pointers speak with respect of their fellow West Pointers.

Exulting in their capture of the fort and still driven by rage, the Invincibles attempted to rush the enemy, but they were met by such a deadly fire that many fell, and their officers drew them back to the shelter of the captured earthworks, where they were joined by their own light guns that had been hurried down the slope. Another volley was fired at them, when they went over the earthen walls, and Harry, as he threw himself upon the ground, heard the ferocious whine of the bullets over his head, a sound to which he would grow used through years terribly long.

Harry rose to his feet and began to feel of himself to see if he were wounded. So great had been the tension and so rapid their movements that he had not been conscious of any physical feeling.

"All right, Harry?" asked a voice by his side.

He saw Langdon with a broad red stripe down his cheek. The stripe was of such even width that it seemed to have been painted there, and Harry stared at it in a sort of fascination.

"I know I'm not beautiful, Harry," said Langdon, "neither am I killed or mortally wounded. But my feelings are hurt. That bullet, fired by some mill hand who probably never pulled a trigger before, just grazed the top of my head, but it has pumped enough out of my veins to irrigate my face with a beautiful scarlet flow."

"The mill hands may never have pulled trigger before," said Harry, "but it looks as if they were learning how fast enough. Down, Tom!"

Again the smoke and fire burst from the forest, and the bullets whined in hundreds over their heads. Two heavier crashes showed that the cannon were also coming into play, and one shell striking within the fort, exploded, wounding a half dozen men.

"I suppose that everything happens for the best," said Langdon, "but having got into the fort, it looks as if we couldn't get out again. With the help of the earthwork I can hide from the bullets, but how are you to dodge a shell which can come in a curve over the highest kind of a wall, drop right in the middle of the crowd, burst, and send pieces in a hundred directions?"

"You can't," said St. Clair, who appeared suddenly.

He was covered with dirt and his fine new uniform was torn.

"What has happened to you?" asked Harry.

"I've just had practical proof that it's hard to dodge a bursting shell," replied St. Clair calmly. "I'm in luck that no part of the shell itself hit me, but it sent the dirt flying against me so hard that it stung, and I think that some pieces of gravel have played havoc with my coat and trousers."

"Hark! there go our cannon!" exclaimed Harry. "We'll drive them out of those woods."

"None too soon for me," said St. Clair, looking ruefully at his torn uniform. "I'd take it as a politeness on their part if they used bullets only and not shells."

They had not yet come down to the stern discipline of war, but their talk was stopped speedily by the senior officers, who put them to work arranging the young recruits along the earthworks, whence they could reply with comparative safety to the fire from the wood. But Harry noted that the raking fire of their own cannon had been effective. The Northern troops had retreated to a more distant point in the forest, where they were beyond the range of rifles, but it seemed that they had no intention of going any further, as from time to time a shell from their cannon still curved and fell in the fort or near it. The Southern guns, including those that had been captured, replied, but, of necessity, shot and shell were sent at random into the forest which now hid the whole Northern force.

"It seems to me," said St. Clair to Harry, "that while we have taken the fort we have merely made an exchange. Instead of being besiegers we have turned ourselves into the besieged."

"And while I'm expecting everything to turn out for the best," said Langdon, "I don't know that we've made anything at all by the exchange. We're in the fort, but the mechanics and mill hands are on the slope in a good position to pepper us."

"Or to wait for reinforcements," said Harry.

"I hadn't thought of that," said St. Clair. "They may send up into the mountains and bring four or five times our numbers. Patterson's army must be somewhere near."

"But we'll hope that they won't," said Langdon.

The Northern troops ceased their fire presently, but the officers, examining the woods with their glasses, said they were still there. Then came the grim task of burying the dead, which was done inside the earthworks. Nearly two score of the Invincibles had fallen to rise no more, and about a hundred were wounded. It was no small loss even for a veteran force, and Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire looked grave. Many of the recruits had turned white, and they had strange, sinking sensations.

There was little laughter or display of triumph inside the earthworks, nor was there any increase of cheer when the recruits saw the senior officers draw aside and engage in anxious talk.

"I'm thinking that idea of yours, Harry, about Yankee reinforcements, must have occurred to Colonel Talbot also," said Langdon. "It seems that we have nothing else to fear. The Yankees that we drove out are not strong enough to come back and drive us out. So they must be looking for a heavy force from Patterson's army."

The conference of the officers was quickly over, and then the men were put to work building higher the walls of earth and deepening the ditches. Many picks and spades had been captured in the fort, and others used bayonets. All, besides the guard, toiled hard two or three hours without interruption.

It was now noon, and food was served. An abundance of water in barrels had been found in the fort and the men drank it eagerly as the sun was warm and the work with spade and shovel made them very thirsty. The three boys, despite their rank, had been taking turns with the men and they leaned wearily against the earthwork.

The clatter of tools had ceased. The men ate and drank in silence. No sound came from the Northern troops in the wood. A heavy, ominous silence brooded over the little valley which had seen so much battle and passion. Harry felt relaxed and for the moment nerveless. His eyes wandered to the new earth, beneath which the dead lay, and he shivered. The wounded were lying patiently on their blankets and those of their comrades and they did not complain. The surgeons had done their best for them and the more skillful among the soldiers had helped.

The silence was very heavy upon Harry's nerves. Overhead great birds hovered on black wings, and when he saw them he shuddered. St. Clair saw them, too.

"No pleasant sight," he said. "I feel stronger since I've had food and water, Harry, but I'm thinking that we're going to be besieged in this fort, and we're not overburdened with supplies. I wonder what the colonel will do."

"He'll try to hold it," said Langdon. "He was sent here for that purpose, and we all know what the colonel is."

"He will certainly stay," said Harry.

After a good rest they resumed work with pick, shovel, and bayonet, throwing the earthworks higher and ever higher. It was clear to the three lads that Colonel Talbot expected a heavy attack.

"Perhaps we have underrated our mill hands and mechanics," said St. Clair, in his precise, dandyish way. "They may not ride as well or shoot as well as we do, but they seem to be in no hurry about going back to their factories."

Harry glanced at him. St. Clair was always extremely particular about his dress. It was a matter to which he gave time and thought freely. Now, despite all his digging, he was again trim, immaculate, and showed no signs of perspiration. He would have died rather than betray nervousness or excitement.

"I've no doubt that we've underrated them," said Harry. "Just as the people up North have underrated us. Colonel Talbot told me long ago that this was going to be a terribly big war, and now I know he was right."

A long time passed without any demonstration on the part of the enemy. The sun reached the zenith and blazed redly upon the men in the fort. Harry looked longingly at the dark green woods. He remembered cool brooks, swelling into deep pools here and there in just such woods as these, in which he used to bathe when he was a little boy. An intense wish to swim again in the cool waters seized him. He believed it was so intense because those beautiful woods there on the slope, where the running water must be, were filled with the Northern riflemen.

Three scouts, sent out by Colonel Talbot, returned with reports that justified his suspicions. A heavy force, evidently from Patterson's army operating in the hills and mountains, was marching down the valley to join those who had been driven from the fort. The junction would be formed within an hour. Harry was present when the report was made and he understood its significance. He rejoiced that the walls of earth had been thrown so much higher and that the trenches had been dug so much deeper.

In the middle of the afternoon, when the cool shade was beginning to fall on the eastern forest, they noticed a movement in the woods. They saw the swaying of bushes and the officers, who had glasses, caught glimpses of the men moving in the undergrowth. Then came a mighty crash and the shells from a battery of great guns sang in the air and burst about them. It was well for the Invincibles that they had dug their trenches deep, as two of the shells burst inside the fort. Harry was with Colonel Talbot, now acting as an aide, and he heard the leader's quiet comment:

"The reinforcements have brought more big guns. They will deliver a heavy cannonade and then under cover of the smoke they will charge. Lieutenant Kenton, tell our gunners that it is my positive orders that they are not to fire a single shot until I give the word. The Yankees can see us, but we cannot see them, and we'll save our ammunition for their charge. Keep well down in the trench, Lieutenant Kenton!"

The Invincibles hugged their shelter gladly enough while the fire from the great guns continued. A second battery opened from a point further down the slope, and the fort was swept by a cross-fire of ball and shell. Yet the loss of life was small. The trenches were so deep and so well constructed that only chance pieces of shell struck human targets.

Harry remained with Colonel Talbot, ready to carry any order that he might give. The colonel peered over the earthwork at intervals and searched the woods closely with a powerful pair of glasses. His face was very grave, but Harry presently saw him smile a little. He wondered, but he had learned enough of discipline now not to ask questions of his commanding officer. At length he heard the colonel mutter:

"It is Carrington! It surely must be Carrington!" A third battery now opened at a point almost midway between the other two, and the smile of the colonel came again, but now it lingered longer.

"It is bound to be Carrington!" he said. "It cannot possibly be any other! That way of opening with a battery on one flank, then on the other, and then with a third midway between was always his, and the accuracy of aim is his, too! Heavens, what an artillery officer! I doubt whether there is such another in either army, or in the world! And he is better, too, than ever!"

He caught Harry looking at him in wonder, and he smiled once more.

"A friend of mine commands the Northern artillery," he said. "I have not seen him, of course, but he is making all the signs and using all the passwords. We are exactly the same age, and we were chums at West Point. We were together in the Indian wars, and together in all the battles from Vera Cruz to the City of Mexico. It's John Carrington, and he's from New York! He's perfectly wonderful with the guns! Lord, lad, look how he lives up to his reputation! Not a shot misses! He must have been training those gunners for months! Thunder, but that was magnificent!"

A huge shell struck squarely in the center of the earthwork, burst with a terrible crash, and sent steel splinters and fragments flying in every direction. A rain of dirt followed the rain of steel, and, when the colonel wiped the last mote from his eye, he said triumphantly and joyously:

"It's Carrington! Not a shadow of doubt can be left! Only such gunners as those he trains can plump shells squarely among us at that range! Oh, I tell you, Harry, he's a marvel. Has the wonderful mathematical and engineering eye!"

The eyes of Colonel Leonidas Talbot beamed with admiration of his old comrade, mingled with a strong affection. Nevertheless, he did not relax his vigilance and caution for an instant. He made the circuit of the fort and saw that everything was ready. The Southern riflemen lined every earthwork, and the guns had been wheeled into the best positions, with the gunners ready. Then he returned to his old place.