The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

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      Dick stared. There was nothing insulting in the man’s tone. He seemed to be thoroughly in earnest. Perhaps he regarded his point of view as right, and Dick, a boy of thought and resource, saw that it was not worth while to make a quarrel. But he resolved to remember Watson, feeling that the course of events might bring them together again.

      “I suppose it’s as you say,” he said. “You’re a man of affairs and you ought to know.”

      Watson smiled at him. Dick felt that the contractor had been telling the truth when he said that he was inclined to like him. Perhaps he was honest and supplied good materials, when others supplied bad.

      “You will shake hands with me, Mr. Mason,” he said. “You think that I will be hostile to you, but maybe some day I can prove myself your friend. Young soldiers often need friends.”

      His eyes twinkled and his smile widened. In spite of his appearance and his proposition, something winning had suddenly appeared in the manner of this man. Dick found himself shaking hands with him.

      “Good-bye, Mr. Mason,” said Watson. “It may be that we shall meet on the field, although I shall not be within range of the guns.”

      He left the lobby of the hotel, and Dick was rather puzzled. It was his first thought to tell Colonel Winchester about him, but he finally decided that Watson’s own advice to him to keep silent was best. He and Colonel Winchester took the train from Washington the next day, and on the day after were with Pope’s army on the Rapidan.

      Dick detected at once a feeling of excitement or tension in this army, at least among the young officers with whom he associated most. They felt that a storm of some kind was gathering, either in front or on their flank. McClellan’s army was now on the transports, leaving behind the Virginia that he had failed to conquer, and Pope’s, with a new commander, was not yet in shape. The moment was propitious for Lee and Jackson to strike, and the elusive Jackson was lost again.

      “Our scouts discover nothing,” said Warner to Dick. “The country is chockfull of hostility to us. Not a soul will tell us a word. We have to see a thing with our own eyes before we know it’s there, but the people, the little children even, take news to the rebels. A veil is hung before us, but there is none before them.”

      “There is one man who is sure to find out about Jackson.”

      “Who?”

      Dick’s only answer was a shake of the head. But he was thinking of Shepard. He did not see him about the camp, and he had no doubt that he was gone on another of his dangerous missions. Meanwhile newspapers from New York and other great cities reflected the doubts of the North. They spoke of Pope’s grandiloquent dispatches, and they wondered what had become of Lee and Jackson.

      Dick, an intense patriot, passed many bitter moments. He, like others, felt that the hand upon the reins was not sure. Instead of finding the enemy and assailing him with all their strength, they were waiting in doubt and alarm to fend off a stroke that would come from some unknown point out of the dark.

      The army now lay in one of the finest parts of Virginia, a region of picturesque mountains, wide and fertile valleys, and of many clear creeks and rivers coming down from the peaks and ridges. To one side lay a great forest, known as the Wilderness, destined, with the country near it, to become the greatest battlefield of the world. Here, the terrible battles of the Second Manassas, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, and others less sanguinary, but great struggles, nevertheless, were to be fought.

      But these were yet in the future, and Dick, much as his eyes had been opened, did not yet dream how tremendous the epic combat was to be. He only knew that to-day it was the middle of August, the valleys were very hot, but it was shady and cool on the hills and mountains. He knew, too, that he was young, and that pessimism and gloom could not abide long with him.

      He and Warner and Pennington had good horses, in place of those that they had lost at Cedar Run, and often they rode to the front to see what might be seen of the enemy, which at present was nothing. Their battlefield at Cedar Run had been reoccupied by Northern troops and Pope was now confirmed in his belief that his men had won a victory there. And this victory was to be merely a prelude to another and far greater one.

      As they rode here and there in search of the enemy, Dick came upon familiar ground. Once more he saw the field of Manassas which had been lost so hardly the year before. He remembered every hill and brook and curve of the little river, because they had been etched into his brain with steel and fire. How could anyone forget that day?

      “Looks as if we might fight our battle of last year over again, but on a much bigger scale,” he said to Warner.

      “Here or hereabouts,” said the Vermonter, “and I think we ought to win. They’ve got the better generals, but we’ve got more men. Besides, our troops are becoming experienced and they’ve shown their mettle. Dick, here’s a farmer gathering corn. Let’s ask him some questions, but I’ll wager you a hundred to one before we begin that he knows absolutely nothing about the rebel army. In fact, I doubt that he will know of its existence.”

      “I won’t take your bet,” said Dick.

      They called to the man, a typical Virginia farmer in his shirt sleeves, tall and spare, short whiskers growing under his chin. There was not much difference between him and his brother farmer in New England.

      “Good-day,” said Warner.

      “Good-day.”

      “You seem to be working hard.”

      “I’ve need to do it. Farm hands are scarce these days.”

      “Farming is hard work.”

      “Yes; but it’s a lot safer than some other kinds men are doin’ nowadays.”

      “True, no doubt, but have you seen anything of the army?”

      “What army?”

      “The one under Lee and Jackson, the rebel army.”

      “I ain’t heard of no rebel army, mister. I don’t know of any such people as rebels.”

      “You call it the Confederate army. Can you tell us anything about the Confederate army?”

      “What Confederate army, mister? I heard last month when I went in to the court house that there was more than one of them.”

      “I mean the one under Lee and Jackson.”

      “That’s cur’us. A man come ridin’ ‘long here three or four weeks ago. Mebbe he was a lightnin’ rod agent an’ mebbe he had patent medicines to sell, he didn’t say, but he did tell me that General Jackson was in one place an General Lee was in another. Now which army do you mean?”

      “That was nearly a month ago. They are together now.”

      “Then, mister, if you know so much more about it than I do, what are you askin’ me questions for?”

      “But I want to know about Lee and Jackson. Have you seen them?”

      “Lord bless you, mister, them big generals don’t come visitin’ the likes o’ me. You kin see my house over thar among the trees. You kin search it if you want to, but you won’t find nothin’.”

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