Chapter IX. Chancellorsville

The Star of Gettysburg

by Joseph A. Altsheler

Harry and Dalton sat down on a tiny hillock and waited while the
two generals carried on their long conference, to which now and then
they summoned McLaws, Anderson, Pender and other division or brigade
commanders. The two lads even then felt the full import of that
memorable night.

Nature herself had stripped away all softness, leaving only
sternness and desolation for the terrible drama which was about to be
played in the Wilderness. The night was dark, and to Harry's
imaginative mind the forest turned to some vast stretch of the
ancient, primitive world.

Naturally cheerful and usually alive with the optimism of youth,
the air seemed to him that night to be filled with menacing signals.
Often he started at familiar sounds. The clank of arms to which he
had been so long used sent a chill down his spine. As the campfires
died, the gloom that hung over the Wilderness became for him heavier
and more ominous.

"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Dalton, catching a glimpse of
his face in the moonlight.

"I don't know, George. I suppose this war is getting on my
nerves. I must be looking too much into the future. Anyway, I'm
oppressed to-night, and I don't know what it is that's oppressing me
so much."

"I don't feel that way. Maybe I'm becoming blunted. But the
generals are talking a long time."

"I suppose they have need to do a lot of talking, George. You
know how small our army is, and we can't rush Hooker behind the
strong intrenchments they say he has thrown up. Oh, if only
Longstreet and his corps were back with us!"

"Well, Longstreet and his men are not here, and we'll have to do
the best we can without them. Hold up your head, Harry. Lee and
Jackson will find a way."

While Lee and Jackson and their generals conferred, another
conference was going on three miles away at the Chancellor House in
the depths of the Wilderness. Hooker, a brave man, who had proved
his courage more than once, was bewildered and uneasy. He lacked the
experience in supreme command in which his great antagonist, Lee, was
so rich. The field telegraph had broken down just before sunset, and
his subordinates, Sedgwick and Reynolds, brave men too, who had
divisions elsewhere, were vague and uncertain in their movements.
Hooker did not know what to expect from them.

Some of the generals, chafing at retreat before a force which
they knew to be smaller than their own, wanted to march out and
attack in the morning. Hooker, suddenly grown prudent, awed perhaps
by his great responsibilities, wished to contract his camp and build
intrenchments yet stronger. He compromised at last amid varying
counsels, and decided to hold his present intrenched lines along
their full length. His gallant officers on the extended right and
left were indignant at the thought of withdrawing before the enemy,
sure that they could beat him back every time.

But there were bolder spirits at the Southern headquarters,
three miles away. Lee and Jackson always saw clearly and were always
able to decide upon a course. Besides, their need was far more
desperate. The Southern army did not increase in numbers. Victories
brought few new men to its standards. Winning, it held its own, and
losing, it lost everything. Before it stood the Army of the Potomac,
outnumbering it two to one, and behind that army stood a great nation
ready to pour forth more men by the hundreds of thousands and more
money by the hundreds of millions to save the Union.

Harry, leaning against a bush, fell into a light doze, from
which Dalton aroused him bye and bye. But the habit of war made him
awake fully and instantly. Every faculty was alive. He arose to his
feet and saw that Lee and Jackson were just parting. A faint moon
shone over the Wilderness, revealing but little of the great army
which lay in its thickets.

"I fancy that the plan which will give us either victory or
defeat is arranged," said Dalton.

But neither Harry nor Dalton was called, and bye and bye they
sank into another doze. They were awakened toward morning by
Sherburne, who stood before them holding his horse by the bridle.
The horse was wet with foam, and it was evident that he had been
ridden far and hard.

"What is it?" asked Harry, springing to his feet. "I've been
riding with General Stuart," replied Sherburne, who looked worn and
weary, but nevertheless exultant. "How many miles we've ridden I'll
never know, but we've been along the whole Northern front and around
their wings. With the help of Fitz Lee we've discovered their weak
point. The Northern left, fortified in the thickets, is impossible.
We'd merely beat ourselves to pieces against it; but their right has
no protection at all, that is, no trenches or breastworks. I thought
you boys might be wanted presently, and, as I saw you sleeping here,
I've awakened you. Look down there and you'll see something that I
think the Northern army has cause to dread."

Harry and Dalton looked at a little open space in the center of
which Lee and Jackson sat, having met for another talk, each on an
empty cracker box, taken from a heap which the Northern army had left
behind when it withdrew the day before. The generals faced each
other and two or three men were standing by. One of them was a major
named Hotchkiss, whom Harry knew.

Harry and Dalton did not hear the words said, but one of those
present subsequently told them much that was spoken at this last and
famous conference. A man named Welford had recently cut a road
toward the northwest through the Wilderness in order that he might
haul wood and iron ore to a furnace that he had built. He had
certainly never dreamed of the far more important purpose to which
this road would be put, but he had been found at his home by
Hotchkiss, the major, and, zealous for the South, he had given him
the information that was of so much value. He had also volunteered
to guide the troops along his road and he had marked it on a map
which the major carried.

"What is your report, Major Hotchkiss?" asked General Lee.

The major took a cracker box from the heap, put it between the
two generals, and spread his map upon it, pointing to Welford's road.
The two generals studied it attentively, and then Lee asked Jackson
what he would suggest. Jackson traced the road with his finger and
replied that he would like to follow it with his whole corps and fall
upon the Northern flank. He suggested that he leave his commander
with only a small force to make a noisy demonstration in the Northern
front, while Jackson was executing his great turning movement.

Lee considered it only a few moments and agreed. Then he wrote
brief and crisp instructions, and when he finished, General Jackson
rose to his feet, his face illumined with eagerness. He was
absolutely confident that he would succeed in the daring deed he was
about to undertake.

"It's over," said Dalton. "Whatever it is, we start on it at
once."

Jackson beckoned to all his staff, and soon Harry, Dalton and
the others were busy carrying orders for a great march that Jackson
was about to begin. Many of these orders related to secrecy. The
ranks were to be kept absolutely close and compact. If anybody
straggled he was to receive the bayonet.

The Invincibles were in the vanguard. Harry and Dalton were
near, behind Jackson. Harry could speak now and then with his
friends.

"It's the Second Manassas over again, isn't it, Harry?" said St.
Clair.

"If it is, why do we seem to be marching away from the
enemy?"

"I don't know any more than you do. But I take it that when
Stonewall Jackson draws back from the enemy he merely does it in
order to make a bigger jump. We all know that."

The dark South Carolinian, Bertrand, was riding just in front of
them. Now he turned suddenly and said:

"St. Clair, we're about to go into a great battle, and I've felt
for some time that I provoked the quarrel with you. I'm sorry and I
apologize."

St. Clair looked astonished, but he was not one to refuse so
manly an advance.

"That's so, Captain, we did have a quarrel," he said, "but I had
forgotten it. It's not necessary for anybody to apologize where
there's no rancor."

He took Bertrand's hand in a hearty grasp, which Bertrand
returned with equal vigor. Then the captain pushed his horse and
rode a little ahead of them.

"Now, that was a singular thing," said Dalton, who came of a
deeply religious family, "and to my mind it was predestined."

"Predestined?"

"Yes, predestined! Decreed! Captain Bertrand is going to die.
He'll be killed in the coming battle. He was moved to make up the
quarrel which he forced on St. Clair because of his approaching fate,
although he does not know of it himself."

"Come, come, George! So much battle has keyed your mind too
highly."

But Dalton shook his head and remained resolute in his
belief.

Harry's confidence returned with action and the glorious flush
of a May morning. They had started after dawn. A splendid sun was
rising in a sky of satin blue. It even gilded the somber foliage of
the Wilderness, and the spirits of all the men in the great corps
rose.

Jackson stopped presently with his staff and let some of the
regiments file past him. General Lee was awaiting him there and the
two talked briefly. Harry saw that both were firm and confident. It
was rare with him, but Jackson's face was flushed and his eyes
shining. He lingered for only a few moments, and then rode on with
his column. Lee's eyes followed him, but he and his great lieutenant
had spoken together for the last time.

Now they settled into silence, save for the marching sounds, of
which the most dominant was the rumbling of the artillery. But all
the men in the great column knew that they were embarked upon some
mighty movement. Very few asked themselves what it was. Nor did they
care. They put their faith in the great leader who had always led
them to victory. He could lead them where he chose.

A light wind arose and the bushes and scrub forest of the
Wilderness moved gently like the surface of a lake. But that forest,
as dense as ever, extended on all sides of them and hid the tens of
thousands who marched in its shade.

Harry presently heard the rolling of artillery fire and the
distant crash of rifles behind them. But he knew that it was Lee
with the minor portion of his army making the demonstration in
Hooker's front, deceiving him into the belief that he was about to be
attacked by the whole Southern army, while Jackson with his main
force was making the wide circuit under cover of the Wilderness in
order to fall like a thunderbolt upon his flank.

Harry admired the daring of his two leaders, and at the same
time he trembled with apprehension. They had split their force,
already far smaller, in the face of the foe. Suppose that foe, with
his army of splendid fighters, should come suddenly from his
intrenchments and attack either division. Surely the Northern scouts
and spies were in the thickets. So great a movement as this could
not escape their attention. It would be impossible for a large army
to pass on that journey of many miles around Hooker and not one of
the hundred thousand men he had in the Wilderness bring him a word of
it.

They might be discovered by one of the balloons, and Harry
strained his eyes toward the far Rappahannock. He saw a black speck
floating in the sky, which he thought to be one of the balloons, and
he felt a little dread, but in a moment he realized that Jackson's
army was as completely hidden by the Wilderness from any such
possible observer as if a blanket lay over it. Then he dismissed all
thoughts of balloons and rode on in silence beside Dalton.

Now he listened to the roar behind them. It had the violence of
a great battle, but he noticed that the sounds neither advanced nor
retreated. He smiled a little. Lee was still amusing Hooker, but it
was a grim amusement.

A long time passed. Although the army could not move fast in
the Wilderness, its march was steady. The roar of Lee's attack had
become subdued, but Harry knew that the effect was due only to
distance. His trained ear told him that the demonstration in Hooker's
front, instead of decreasing, had increased in vigor. It was
assuming the proportions of a real battle, and with thickets and
forests to obscure sight, Hooker might well believe that the whole
Southern army was yet in front of him.

The onward march had become rhythmic now. It was to Harry like
the regular throbbing of a pulse. The tread of many men, the beat of
horses' hoofs, and the clanking of guns melted into one musical note.
The sun crept slowly up, gilding thickets and forests with pure gold.
The sky was still an unbroken blue, save for the little white clouds
that floated in its bosom. The breeze of that May morning was
wonderfully crisp and fresh. It came tingling with life to the
thousands, so many of whom were about to die.

It seemed to Harry as they went on through the thickets of the
Wilderness that the Union scouts would never discover them, but
Northern troops on an open eminence of Hazel Grove had seen a long
column moving away through the thickets and made report of it to the
Northern generals. But these leaders did not understand it. They
had not grasped the great daring of Jackson's march.

They believed that Lee was merely extending his lines, but an
hour before noon a battery opened fire from a hill upon the marching
Confederate column. Harry and Dalton heard shrapnel whizzing over
their heads. After the first involuntary shiver they regained the
calm of youthful veterans and rode on in silence.

But the fire of the Northern artillery was damaging, even at
great range. Shells and shrapnel sprayed showers of steel over the
column. Men were killed and others wounded. As they could not turn
back to fight those troublesome cannon, the column turned farther
away and forced a road through a new path. It seemed now that
Jackson's march was discovered and that the whole Northern army might
press in between him and Lee. Harry's heart rose in his throat and
he looked at his general. But Jackson rode calmly on.

The curiosity of the Union generals in regard to that marching
column increased. Several of them appealed to Hooker to let them
advance in force and see what it was. Sickles was allowed to go out
with a strong division, but instead of reaching Jackson he was
confronted by a portion of Lee's force, thrown forward to meet him,
and the battle was so fierce that Sickles was compelled to send for
help. A formidable force came and drove the Southern division before
it, but the vigilant Jackson, informed by his scouts of what was
happening behind him, turned his rear guard to meet the attack, and
Sickles was driven off a second time with great loss. Then Jackson's
men quickly rejoined him and they continued their march, the
vanguard, in fact, never having stopped.

Harry took no part in this, but from a distance he saw much of
it. Once more he admired the surpassing alertness and vigor of
Jackson, who never seemed to make a mistake, a man who was able while
on a great march to detach men for the help of his chief, while never
ceasing to pursue his main object.

The Northern forces, although they had fought bravely,
retreated, and the great movement that was going on remained hidden
from them. The gap between Lee and Jackson was growing wider, but
they did not know it was there. Hooker's retreat with his great army
into the Wilderness had given his enemies a chance to befog and
bewilder him.

Harry's supreme confidence returned. All things seemed possible
to his chief, and once more they were marching, unimpeded. It was
now much past noon, and they turned into a new road, leading north
through the thickets.

"It scarcely seems possible that we can pass around a great army
in this way," said Dalton; "but, Harry, I'm beginning to believe the
general will do it."

"Of course he will," said Harry. "It's Old Jack's chief
pleasure to do impossible things. He leaves the possible to ordinary
men. See him. He didn't even stop to look back while our rear guard
returned to help drive off the Yankees."

The sun was near the zenith and the afternoon grew warm. They
had come upon hard, dry paths, and under the tread of the army great
clouds of dust arose, but it did not float high in the air, the thick
boughs of the trees and bushes catching it. But as it hovered so
close to the ground it made the breathing of the soldiers difficult
and painful. It rasped their throats, and soon they began to burn
with the heat. Many fell exhausted beside the paths, but they were
helped by their comrades or were put into the wagons, and the long
column of steel never ceased to wind onward.

Near the middle of the afternoon, when they were about to cross
the western extension of the plank road, a young cavalry officer
galloped up and rode straight for Jackson. It was Fitzhugh Lee,
whose services were great at Chancellorsville. His glowing face
showed that he brought news of great importance.

As he saluted, General Jackson checked his horse and Harry heard
his general ask:

"You bring news. What is it?"

"I do, sir," responded young Lee eagerly. "I have something to
show you. A great Northern force is only a short distance away, and
it does not suspect your advance at all. If you will come with me to
the crest of a little hill here, I can show them to you."

Jackson never hesitated a moment, signing to Harry to follow
him, evidently meaning to use him as a courier, if need arose. The
three then turned and rode through the bushes toward the hill, and
Harry's heart beat so hard that it gave him an actual physical pain
when he looked down on the sight below. He glanced at Jackson and
saw that his face was flushed and his eyes glowing.

They were gazing upon a great Northern force which was to
protect Hooker's right. Its first lines were only three or four
hundred yards away. There were breastworks and other lines of
defense running far through the forest, positions that were
formidable, but not manned at this moment by riflemen or cannoneers.
Rifles were stacked neatly behind the intrenchments, extending in a
long line as far as they could see. Thousands of soldiers were
sitting on the grass and among the bushes, some asleep, some playing
games, while others were cooking, reading newspapers sent from the
North, and some were singing. It was a picture of idleness and ease
in a camp, and not one among them suspected that thirty thousand
veterans of the South, led by Stonewall Jackson himself, were within
rifle shot, hidden under the vast canopy of the Wilderness.

Harry drew a deep breath, and then another. It was
extraordinary, unbelievable, but it was true. He looked again at
Jackson and saw that his eyes were still burning with blue fire. The
general gazed for five minutes, but never said a word. Then he
turned and rode down the hill, and swiftly the word was passed
through the army that they would soon be upon the enemy.

"What is it, Harry?" asked St. Clair eagerly, as Harry rode
along the lines with a message for a general for whom he was
looking.

"They're just over there," replied Harry, nodding toward his
right.

"And they don't know we're here?"

"They don't dream it."

"And Lee and Jackson have got 'em in the trap again?"

"It looks like it."

Then Harry was gone with his message. And he bore other
messages, and like most of those he had borne earlier, their burden
was secrecy and silence. He never forgot any detail of that
memorable day. Years afterwards he could shut his eyes at any time
and see the eve of Chancellorsville in all its vivid colors, thirty
thousand Southern troops lying hidden in the thickets, General
Jackson, followed by himself and two other aides, riding upon the
hill again and taking one more look at the unsuspecting enemy below,
the spreading out of the cavalry like a curtain between them and
Howard's corps to keep even a single stray Northern picket or scout
from seeing the mortal danger at hand, and then Jackson dismounting
and, seated on a stump, writing to Lee that he was on the enemy's
flank and would attack as soon as possible. Harry was in fear lest
the general should choose him to carry back the dispatch, as he
wished to stay with the corps and see what happened, but the duty was
assigned to another man.

Confidence meanwhile reigned in the Union army. In the morning
Hooker had ridden around his whole line, and cheers received him as
he came. Scouts had brought him word that Jackson was moving, and he
had taken note of the encounter with the rearguard of Stonewall's
force. But as that force continued its march into the deep forest
and disappeared from sight, the brave and sanguine Hooker was
confirmed in his opinion that the whole Southern army was retreating.
His belief was so firm that he sent a dispatch to Sedgwick,
commanding the detached force near Fredericksburg, to pursue
vigorously, as the enemy was fleeing in an effort to save his
train.

While Hooker was writing this dispatch the "fleeing enemy," led
by the greatest of Lee's lieutenants, lay in full force on his flank,
almost within rifle-shot, preparing with calmness and in detail for
one of the greatest blows ever dealt in war. Truly no soldiers ever
deserved higher praise than those of the Army of the Potomac, who,
often misled and mismanaged by second-rate men, grew better and
better after every defeat, and never failed to go into battle zealous
and full of courage.

It seemed almost incredible to Harry, who had twice looked down
upon them, that the whole Union right should remain ignorant of
Jackson's presence. Twenty-eight regiments and six batteries strong,
the Northern troops were now getting ready to cook their suppers, and
there was much laughter and talk as they looked around at the forest
and wondered when they would be sent in pursuit of the fleeing enemy.
Six of the regiments were composed of men born in Germany, or the
sons of Germans, drawn from the great cities of the North, little
used to the forests and thickets and having the stiffness of Germans
on parade. They were at the first point of exposure, and they were
certainly no match for the formidable foe who was creeping nearer and
nearer.

Not all the country here was in forest. There were some fields,
a little wooden cottage on a hill, and in the fields a small house of
worship called the Wilderness Church. It was the little church of
Shiloh and the Dunkard church of Antietam over again.

Harry and Dalton in the front of the lines often saw the gleam
of Northern guns and Northern bayonets through the foliage, but there
was still no sign that anyone in the Northern right flank dreamed of
their presence. Evidently the unconscious thousands there thought
that all chance of battle had passed until the morrow. The sun was
already going down the western heavens, and behind them in the
Wilderness the first shadows were gathering.

Jackson's troops were filled with confidence and exultation. As
they formed for battle among the trees and bushes they too talked,
and with the freedom of republican troops, who fight all the better
for it, they chaffed the young officers, especially the aides, as
they passed. Harry received the full benefit of it.

"Sit up straight in the saddle, sonny. Don't dodge the
bullets!"

"You haven't told the Yanks that we're comin'."

"Will me that hoss if you get shot. I always did like a bay
boss."

"Tell old Hooker that we jest had to arrange a surprise party
for him."

"Tell 'em to make way there in front. We want to git into the
fuss before it's all over."

"Tell Old Jack I'm here and that he can begin the battle."

Harry smiled, and sometimes chaffed back. They were boys
together. Most of the troops in either army were very young. He
recognized that all this talk was the product of exuberant spirits,
and officers much older than he, chaffed in a like manner, took it in
the same way.

But as they drew nearer, orders that all noise should cease were
given, and officers were ready to enforce them. But there was little
need for sternness. The soldiers themselves understood and obeyed.
They were as eager as the officers to achieve a splendid triumph, and
it remains a phenomenon of history how a great army came creeping,
creeping within rifle shot of another, and its presence yet remained
unknown.

The Southern lines now stretched for a long distance through the
forest, cutting across a turnpike, down which the muzzles of four
heavy guns pointed. The cavalry, not far away, were holding back
their magnificent horses. Harry saw Sherburne on their flank nearest
to him, and a smile of triumph passed between them. Off in the
forest the strong division of A. P. Hill was advancing, the sound of
their coming audible to the South but not to the North.

For an hour and a half the formation of the Southern army went
on. Despite the danger of discovery, present every moment, Jackson
was resolved to perfect his preparations for the attack. He was
calm, methodical, and showed no emotion now, however much he may have
felt it. Harry rode back and forth, sometimes with him and sometimes
alone, carrying messages. He expected every instant to hear the
crack of some Northern scout's rifle and his shout of alarm, but the
incredible not only happened--it kept on happening. There was not a
single Northern skirmisher in the bushes. The only sounds that came
from their camp to the Southern scouts were the clatter of dishes and
the laughter of youths who knew that no danger was near.

The sun was far down the western arch, and it seemed to Harry
for a moment or two that no battle might occur that day, but a glance
at Jackson and his incessant activity showed him he was mistaken.
The arrangements were now almost complete. In front were the
skirmishers, then the first line, and a little behind it the second
line, and then Hill with the third line. Although they stood in
thick forest, the lines were even and regular, despite trees and
bushes.

The Invincibles were in the second line. Owing to the density
of the forest, the two colonels and their young staff officers had
dismounted. Harry passed them, and Colonel Talbot said to him:

"Do you know when we'll advance, Harry?"

"It can't be much longer. What time is it, Colonel?"

Colonel Talbot opened his watch, looked carefully at the face,
and as he closed it again and put it back in his pocket, he replied
gravely:

"It's five forty-five o'clock of a memorable afternoon,
Harry."

"It's true, Leonidas," said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St.
Hilaire, "and whatever happens to us, it will be a pleasure to us
both to know, even beyond the grave, that we have served long under
the Christian soldier and great genius, Stonewall Jackson."

"You'll both go through it," said Harry. "I know you'll be with
us when our victorious army goes over the Long Bridge and enters
Washington."

St. Clair and Langdon stood near, but said nothing. Harry saw
that they were enveloped by the mystery, the vastness and the
terrible grandeur of the occasion. So he said nothing to them, but
rode back toward his commander. Then he glanced again at the sun and
saw that it was low, filling all the western heavens with bars of red
and yellow and gold. He looked once again at that formidable line of
battle, stretching in either direction through the forest farther
than he could see, the soldiers eager, excited and straining hard at
the hand that held them there so firmly. It seemed now that nothing
was left to be done, and the time had grown to six o'clock in the
evening.

Jackson turned to Rodes, who commanded the first line of battle,
just in the rear of the skirmishers, and said:

"Are you ready, General?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Then charge," said Jackson.

Rodes nodded toward the leader of the skirmishers, who gave the
word. A powerful man put a glittering brazen bugle to his throat and
blew a long, mellow note that was heard far through the forest. It
was followed by a shout poured from thirty thousand throats, the guns
in the turnpike fired a terrible volley straight into the Union camp,
and then the whole army of Jackson, line upon line, rushed from the
thickets and hurled itself upon its foe.

The Northern army was paralyzed for a moment. Never was
surprise more sudden and terrific. Brave as anybody, the Union men
rushed to their arms, but there was no time to use them. The flood
was upon them and overwhelmed them. The German regiments were cut to
pieces in an instant, and the demoralized survivors retreated into
the mass. Elsewhere a battery was manned and stopped for a moment
the Southern advance, but only for a moment. It, too, was
overwhelmed by the Southern artillery which rushed forward, firing as
fast as the cannoneers could load and reload.

Jackson himself was with his artillery, shouting to them and
encouraging them, and Harry, trying to follow him, found it hard to
keep clear of the guns. The second and third lines of the Southern
army pressed forward with the first, and the terrific impact
overwhelmed everything. The Northern officers showed supreme courage
in their attempt to stem the rout. Everyone on horseback was either
killed or wounded, and their bravery and self-sacrifice were in vain.
Nothing could stem the relentless tide that poured upon them. Harry
had never before seen the Southern troops so exultant. Jackson's
march of a whole day, unseen, almost by the side of the enemy, and
then his sudden attack upon his right flank, made their battle rush
fierce and irresistible. They might be stayed for a few moments, but
they swept on and on, carrying before them the blue brigades.

The scene, while extraordinarily vivid to Harry, was
nevertheless wild and confused. The fire of the cannon and rifles on
a long line was so rapid and terrific that he was almost blinded by
the incessant blaze, which was like one solid sheet of flame. The
dense smoke gathered once more among the bushes and trees and the
forest was filling with a tremendous shouting.

Harry kept as close as he could to his general, who was now in
the very heart of the conflict. But it was a difficult task. His
clothing was torn by bushes and briars, and boughs whipped him across
the face. Now and then in a rift in the smoke he beheld a terrible
sight. The ground was covered with the arms and blankets and tents
of the Union army. Ahead of them were great masses of men,
retreating and jammed among the wagons. The horses, many of them
wounded, were running about, neighing in pain and terror. Officers,
their uniforms often red from wounds, were rushing everywhere,
seeking to stay the panic.

Yet the Union officers at last succeeded in getting some order
out of the chaos. A battery was rallied on a hill and threw a sleet
of steel on the charging men in gray. Some of the seasoned infantry
regiments were managing to form a line and they were beginning to
send back a rifle fire. Harry felt that the resistance in front of
them was hardening a little.

But as usual the eye of Jackson saw everything, even through the
flame and smoke and confusion of a battle fought in dense forests and
thickets.

He galloped up the turnpike himself, his staff hot at his heels,
and shouting to the gunners and pointing forward, he urged on the
artillery. Then he rode among the infantry, and they, as eager as he,
rushed on at increased speed. Yet the Northern resistance was still
hardening. Some of the German regiments atoned for their earlier
panic by reforming and making a brave resistance. Other regiments
formed behind a breastwork.

"They are going to make a bold stand," shouted Harry to
Dalton.

"But it will not help them," the Virginian replied.

The Southern battle front, which for a few minutes had lost
cohesion, now swelled higher than ever. Led by Jackson in person,
nearly all the officers in front sword in hand, the whole division
with a mighty shout charged. Harry saw the Invincibles in the first
line, the two colonels, one on either flank, waving their swords and
their faces young again with the battle fire. But it was only a
glimpse. Then they were lost from his sight in the fire and
smoke.

There could be no sufficient defense against the charge of such
a foe, numerous, prepared and wild with victory. They swept over the
breastwork, they seized the cannon, they took prisoners, and before
them they swept the right wing of the Union army in irreparable rout
and confusion. Harry had not seen its like in the whole war, nor was
he destined to see it again. An entire corps had been annihilated.
The Wilderness was filled with the fragments of regiments seeking to
join the main force with Hooker at Chancellorsville.

Harry thought Jackson would stop. They were now in the deep
woods. The sun was almost gone. The shadows from the east had crept
over the whole sky, and it was already dark among the dense thickets
of the Wilderness. An hour had passed since the first rush, and few
generals would have had the daring to push on in the forest, dark
already and rapidly growing darker. But Jackson was one of the few.
He continued to urge on his men, and he sent his staff officers
galloping back and forth to help in the task. There was a road in
the very rear of Hooker. He intended to seize it, and he was resolved
before the night closed down utterly to plant himself so firmly
against the very center of the Union army that Hooker's complete
defeat in the morning would be sure.

The bugles sang the charge again all along the Southern line,
and in the dying twilight, lit by the flame of cannon and rifles,
they swept forward, driving all resistance before them.

It was one of the most appalling moments in the history of a
nation which has had to win its way with immense toil and through
many dangers. Hooker, brave, not lacking in ability, but far from
being a match for the extraordinary combination that faced him, two
men of genius working in perfect harmony, had been sitting with two
of his staff officers on the portico of the Chancellor House. He was
serene and confident. He knew the courage of his soldiers and their
numbers. The cannonade in his front had died down. He was a
full-faced man, ruddy and stalwart, and with his powerful army of
veterans he felt equal to anything. There was nothing to indicate
that the Southern army was not in full retreat, as he had stated in
his dispatch earlier in the day. The thought of Jackson had passed
out of his mind for the time, because his long columns, he was sure,
were marching farther and farther away.

Hooker, as the cool of the later afternoon, so pleasant after
the heat of the day, came on, felt an increase of satisfaction. All
his great forces would be massed in the morning. Now and then he
heard in the east the far sound of cannon like muttering thunder on
the horizon, but after a while it ceased entirely. He heard that
distant thunder in the south, too, but it passed farther and farther
away, and he felt sure that it came from his valiant guns hanging on
the rear guard of the retreating Jackson.

One wonders what must be the feelings of a man who, sitting in
apparent security, is suddenly plunged into a terrible pit.
Commanders less able than Hooker have had better luck. What had he
to fear? With one hundred and thirty thousand veterans of the Army
of the Potomac within call, almost any other general in his place
would have felt a like security. But he had not fathomed fully the
daring and skill of the two men who confronted him.

It is related that on the approach of that memorable evening
there was a remarkable peace and quiet at the Chancellor House
itself. Hooker was conversing quietly with his aides. Officers
inside the house were copying orders. The distant mutter of the guns
that came now and then was harmonious and rather soothing. The east
was already darkening and it seemed that a quiet sun would set over
the Wilderness.

The cannonade in the south seemed to pass into a new direction,
but the officers at the Chancellor House did not give it much
attention. Hooker was still quiet and confident. Suddenly a terrific
crash of cannon fire came from a point in the northwest. It was
followed by another and then others, so swiftly that they merged. It
never ceased for an instant and it rapidly rolled nearer. Hooker and
his officers leaped to their feet and gazed appalled at the forest
whence came those ominous sounds. An officer ran upon the plank road
and took a look through his glasses.

"Good God!" he cried, as he turned quickly back. "Here they
come!"

Down the road was pouring a mass of fugitives, and they brought
with them news that did not suffer in the telling, either in
magnitude or color. Stonewall Jackson and the bulk of the rebel army
had suddenly fallen on their wing, they said, and he and his men were
hard upon their heels. Hooker passed in a moment from the certainty
of victory to the certainty that his army must fight for its very
existence. Yet he and his generals showed presence of mind and great
courage in the crisis, bringing forward troops rapidly and, above
all, massing the superb artillery.

Harry Kenton, his horse shot under him, again was in the front
line of the Southern troops that followed the mass of fugitives down
the road toward the Chancellor House. In the mad rush he lost sight
of Jackson for the time, and found himself mingled with the
Invincibles. Both the colonels were bleeding from slight wounds, but
with fire equal to that of any youth they were still at the head of
their troops, leading them straight toward the Union center.

Harry only had time to glance at his friends and receive their
glances in return, and then he found Jackson again. Catching one of
the riderless horses, so numerous, he sprang upon him and rode close
behind his general, where Dalton, a slight bullet wound in the arm,
had been able to remain through all the confusion.

Now the Southern troops were crashing through the woods and
bearing down upon the Chancellor House. The blaze of the cannon and
rifles lit up the early night, and the crash and tumult around the
place became indescribable. Many a Northern officer thought that all
was lost, but the trained artillerymen of the North never flinched.
Occupying an eminence, battery after battery was wheeled into line,
until fifty cannon manned by the best gunners in the world were
pouring an awful fire upon the Southern front. Jackson's men were
compelled to stop, and elsewhere the Southern line was halted also by
the density of the thickets.

Yet it was but a lull. It was far into the night.
Nevertheless, Jackson meant to push the battle. He rode among his
troops and encouraged them for another effort. Everywhere he was
received with tremendous cheers, and the men were willing and eager
to push on the attack. Lee, his chief, meanwhile was closing in with
the smaller force. The whole line was reformed. Jackson cried to
Hill and Lane and other generals to push on. The whole army was in
line for a fresh attack, and they could hear the sounds made by the
enemy cutting down timber and fortifying.

It was now nearly nine o'clock at night, and save for the fires
that burned here and there and the flash of the picket firing, the
night that hung over the Wilderness was dark and heavy.

Harry passed once more near the Invincibles, who were lying
down, panting with weariness, but exultant. They had lost a third of
their numbers in the attack, but the wounds of his own friends were
not serious.

"Do you know whether we charge them again, Harry?" asked Colonel
Talbot.

"I don't know, sir; but you know General Jackson."

"Then it probably means that we attack. Keep down, Captain
Bertrand! Those Northern pickets in the bushes in front of us are
active, and, upon my word, they know how to shoot, as the honorable
wounds of many of us attest!"

Bertrand, eager to see the enemy, was standing on a hillock, and
he did not seem to hear the words of his chief. A rifle cracked in
the bushes and he fell back without a word. The arms of St. Clair
received him and eased him gently to the earth. But Harry saw at a
glance that the man and his fevered ambitions were gone forever. He
was dead before he touched the ground.

"I'm glad that I was the one to catch his body," said St. Clair
simply.

Harry was moved at the fall of this man, although he had never
really liked him, but he went on and rejoined his general. Colonel
Talbot was right. Jackson was still intent upon pressing the attack.
Night and darkness were now nothing to him. He meant to achieve
Hooker's ruin.

Harry always believed afterward that he felt the shadow of the
great tragedy soon to come. The roar of the cannon had died down,
but from every direction came the firing of scattered riflemen,
skirmishers and pickets. They buzzed like angry bees, and no man on
the front of either army was safe from their sting. But all through
the Wilderness along the line of Jackson's charge the dead and
wounded lay. Here and there clumps of fallen and dead wood of the
winter before, set on fire by the shells, were burning slowly. The
smoke from so much firing drifted in vast banks of vapor through the
forest. The air was filled with bitter odors.

Harry felt a sensation of awe and terror, not terror inspired by
man, but of the unknown or uncontrolled forces that drive men to meet
one another in such deadly combat. Now night did not suffice to stop
the titanic struggle. He saw all around him the regiments ready for
a new attack, and he plainly heard in front of him the thud of axes
as the Northern men cut down trees for their defense. Now and then
stray moonbeams, penetrating the forest and the smoke, fell over them
like discs of burnished silver, but faded quickly.

The firing of the skirmishers increased. Twigs and leaves cut
off by the bullets fell in little showers to the earth. Harry, on
horseback now, saw an impatient look pass over the general's face.
The intrepid fighter, A. P. Hill, was coming up fast, but not fast
enough for Stonewall Jackson. He turned and rode back toward him,
careless of the danger from the Northern skirmishers, who might at
any moment see him.

"General," said one of his staff in protest, "don't expose
yourself so much."

"There is no danger," said the general quickly. "The enemy is
routed and we must push him hard. Hurry to General Hill and tell him
to press forward."

The little group of men, Jackson and his staff, rode on. It was
very dark where they were, in the shade of the stunted forest. No
moonlight reached them there. Jackson paused, listening to the
rising fire of the skirmishers. A rifle suddenly flashed in the
thickets before them. Northern troops, lost in the bush and the
darkness, were coming directly their way.

Jackson turned and, followed by his staff, rode toward his own
lines. The men of a North Carolina regiment, dimly seeing a group of
horsemen coming down upon them, thought they were about to be
attacked, and an officer gave an order to fire. He was obeyed at
once, and the most costly volley fired by Southern troops in the
whole war sent the deadly bullets whistling into Jackson's group.

Officers and horses fell, shot down by their own men. Jackson
was struck in the right hand and received two bullets in his left
arm. One cut an artery and another shattered the bone near the
shoulder. The reins dropped from his hands, and his horse, the famous
Little Sorrel, broke violently away, rushing through the woods toward
the Northern lines. A bough struck Jackson in the face and he reeled
in the saddle. But with a violent effort he righted himself, seized
the bridle in his stricken right hand, and turned back his frightened
horse.

Harry had sat still in his saddle, petrified with horror. Then
he urged forward his horse and tried to reach his general, but
another aide, Captain Wilbourn, was before him. Wilbourn seized the
reins of Little Sorrel and then Harry felt the thrill of horror again
as he saw Jackson reel forward and fall. But he was caught in the
arms of the faithful Wilbourn.

They laid Jackson on the ground, and a courier was sent in haste
for his personal physician, Dr. McGuire. Harry sprang down, and
abandoning his horse, which he never saw again, knelt beside his
general. Wilbourn with a penknife was cutting the sleeve from the
shattered arm.

The whole battle passed away for Harry. Death was in his heart
at that moment. When he looked at the white, drawn face of Jackson
and his shattered arm, he had no hope then, nor did he ever have any
afterwards, save for a few moments. The paladin of the Confederacy
was gone, shot down in the dark by his own men.

General Hill, who also had been in great danger from the bullets
of the North Carolinians, galloped up, sprang from his horse and
helped to bind up the shattered arm.

"Are you much hurt, General?" he asked, his face distorted with
grief and alarm.

"I fear so," was the reply, in a weak voice, "and I have
suffered all my wounds from my own men. I think my right arm is
broken."

Harry remained motionless. He saw Dalton by his side, and he
also saw tears on his face. Jackson closed his eyes and uttered no
word of complaint, although it was obvious that he was suffering
terribly. General Hill felt his pulse. He was rapidly growing
weaker. Harry was so stunned that he would not have known what to
do, even had not senior officers been present. When his pulse began
to beat again he remained silent, waiting upon his superiors.

But Harry was now alert and watchful again. He heard the heavy
firing of the skirmishers on the right, on the left, and in front,
and through the darkness he saw the flashes of flame. The little
group around the fallen man was detached from the army and the enemy
might come upon them at any moment. Even as he looked, two Union
skirmishers came through the thicket and, pausing, their rifles in
the hollows of their arms, looked intently at the shadowy figures
before them, trying to discern who and what they were. It was
General Hill who acted promptly. Turning to Harry and Dalton, he said
in a low tone:

"Take charge of those men."

The two young lieutenants, with levelled pistols, instantly
sprang forward and seized the soldiers before they had time to
resist. They were given to orderlies and sent to the rear. Harry
and Dalton returned to the side of their fallen general. While all
stood there trying to decide what to do, an aide who had gone down
the road reported that a battery of Northern artillery was
unlimbering just before them.

"Then we must take the General away at once," said Hill.

Hill lifted in his arms the great leader who was now almost too
weak to speak, although he opened his eyes once, and, as ever,
thoughtful of his troops and the cause for which he fought, said.

"Tell them it's only a wounded Confederate soldier whom you are
carrying."

Then he closed his eyes again and lay heavy and inert in Hill's
arms. Hill held him on his feet, and the young staff officers, now
crowding around, supported him. Thus aided he walked among the trees
until they came to the road. It was as dark as ever, save for the
flash of the firing which went on continuously to right, to left, and
in front, mingled now with the sinister rumble of cannon.

Harry, helping to support Jackson and overwhelmed with grief,
felt as if the end of the world had come. The darkness, the flash of
the rifles, the mutter of cannon, the blaze of gunpowder, the fierce
shouts that rose now and then in the thickets, the foul odors, made
him think that they had truly reached the infernal regions.

The lieutenant, who saw the battery unlimbering, had not been
deceived by his imagination. Just as they entered the road it fired
a terrible volley of grape and shrapnel. Luckily in the darkness it
fired high, and the little Southern group heard the deadly sleet
crashing in the bushes and boughs over their heads.

The devoted young staff officers instantly laid Jackson down in
the road, and, sheltering him with their own bodies as they lay
beside him, remained perfectly still while the awful rain of steel
swept over their heads again. Whether Jackson was conscious of it
Harry never knew.

It was one of the most terrible moments of Harry's life. He
felt the most overwhelming grief, but every nerve, nevertheless, was
sensitive to the last degree. His first conviction that Jackson's
wounds were mortal was in abeyance for the moment. He might yet
recover and lead his dauntless legions as of old to victory, and he,
like the other young officers who lay around him, was resolved to
save him with his own life if he could.

The deadly rain from the cannon did not cease. It swept over
their heads again and again, all the more fearful because of the
darkness. Harry felt the twigs and leaves, cut from the bushes,
falling on his face. The whining of the grape and shrapnel and
canister united in one ferocious note. Some of it struck in the
roadway beyond them and fire flew from the stones.

The general revived a little after a while and tried to get up,
but one of the young officers threw his arms around him and, holding
him down, said:

"Be still, General! You must! It will cost you your life to
rise!"

The general made no further attempt to rise, and perhaps he
lapsed into a stupor for a little space. Harry could not tell how
long that dreadful shrieking and whining over their heads continued.
It was five minutes perhaps, but to him it seemed interminable.
Presently the missiles gave forth a new note.

"They're using shells now," said Dalton, "because they're
seeking a longer range, and they're going much higher over our heads
than the canister."

"And here are men approaching," said Harry. "I can make out
their figures. They must be our own."

"So they are!" said Dalton, as they came nearer.

It was a heavy mass of Confederate infantry pressing forward in
the darkness, and the young officers who had been so ready to give
their lives for their hero lifted him to his feet. Not wishing to
have the ardor of his men quenched by the sight of his wounds,
Jackson bade them take him aside into the thick bushes. But Pender,
the general who was leading these troops, saw him and recognized him,
despite the heavy veil of darkness and smoke.

Pender rushed to Jackson, betraying the greatest grief, and said
that he was afraid he must fall back before the tremendous artillery
fire of the enemy. As he spoke, that fire increased. Shells and
round shot, grape and canister and shrapnel shrieked through the air,
and the bullets, too, were coming in thousands, whistling like hail
driven by a hurricane. Men fell all about them in the darkness.

But the great soul of Jackson, wounded to death and unable to
stand, was unshaken. Harry saw him suddenly straighten up, draw
himself away from those who were supporting him, and say:

"You must hold your ground, General Pender! You must hold out
to the very last, sir!"

Once more the eyes shot forth blue fire. Once more the
unquenchable spirit had spoken. The figure reeled, and the young
officers sprang to his support. He wanted to lie down there and
rest, but the youths would not let him, because every form of missile
hurled from a cannon's mouth was crashing among them. A litter
arrived now and they carried him toward a house that had been used as
a tavern. A shot struck one of the men who held the litter in his
arm and he was compelled to let go. The litter tipped over and
Jackson fell heavily to the ground, his whole weight crashing upon
his wounded arm. Harry heard him utter then his first and only
groan. The boy himself cried out in horror.

But they lifted him up again, and the litter bearers carried him
on, the young officers crowded close around him. Although it was far
on toward midnight, the roar of the battle swelled afresh through the
Wilderness. They came presently to an ambulance, by the side of
which Jackson's physician, Dr. McGuire, stood. The surgeon, tears in
his eyes, bent over the general and asked him if he were badly hurt.
Jackson replied that he thought he was dying.

An officer of high rank, Colonel Crutchfield, whom Jackson
esteemed highly, was already lying in the ambulance, wounded
severely. They put Jackson beside him and drove slowly toward the
rear. Once, when Crutchfield groaned under the jolting of the
ambulance, Jackson made them stop until his comrade was easier. Then
the mournful procession moved on, while the battle roared and crashed
about the lone ambulance that bore the stricken idol of the
Confederacy, Lee's right arm, the man without whom the South could
not win. Harry heard long afterward that a minister in New Orleans
used in his prayer some such words as these, "Oh, Lord, when Thou in
Thy infinite wisdom didst decree that the Southern Confederacy should
fail, Thou hadst first to take away Thy servant, Stonewall
Jackson."

Harry and Dalton might have followed the ambulance that carried
Jackson away, as they were members of his staff, but they felt that
their place was on this dusky battlefield. While they paused, not
knowing what to do, a body of men came through the brushwood and they
recognized the upright and martial figures of Colonel Leonidas Talbot
and Lieutenant- Colonel Hector St. Hilaire. Just behind them were
St. Clair, Langdon and the rest of the Invincibles. The two colonels
turned and gazed at the retreating ambulance, a shadow for a moment
in the dusk, and then a shadow gone.

"I saw them putting an officer in that ambulance, Harry," said
Colonel Talbot. "Who was it?"

Harry choked and made no answer.

Colonel Talbot, surprised, turned to Dalton.

"Who was it?" he repeated.

Dalton turned his face away, and was silent.

At sight of this emotion, a sudden, terrible suspicion was born
in the mind of Colonel Leonidas Talbot. It was like a dagger
thrust.

"You don't mean--it can't be--" he exclaimed, in broken
words.

Harry could control his feelings no longer.

"Yes, Colonel," he burst forth. "It was he, Stonewall Jackson,
shot down in the darkness and by mistake by our own men!"

"Was he hurt badly?"

"One arm was shattered completely, and he was shot through the
hand of the other."

The moonlight shone on Harry's face just then, and the colonel,
as he looked at him, drew in his breath with a deep gasp.

"So bad as that!" he muttered. "I did not think our champion
could fall."

Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire, Langdon and St. Clair,
who had heard him, also turned pale, but were silent.

"We must not tell it," said Harry. "General Jackson did not
wish it to be known to the soldiers, and there is fighting yet to be
done. Here comes General Hill!"

Harry and Dalton flung themselves into the ranks of the
Invincibles. Hill took command in Jackson's place, but was soon badly
wounded by a fragment of shell, and was taken away. Then Stuart, the
great horseman, rode up and led the troops to meet the return attack
for which the Northern forces were massing in their front. Harry saw
Stuart as he came, eager as always for battle, his plumed hat shining
in the light of the moon, which was now clear and at the full.

"If Jackson can lead no longer, then Stuart can," said Colonel
Talbot, looking proudly at the gallant knight who feared no danger.
"What time is it, Hector?"

"Nearly midnight, Leonidas."

"And no time for fighting, but fighting will be done. Can't you
hear their masses gathering in the wood?"

"I do, Hector. The Yankees, despite their terrible surprise,
have shown great spirit. It is not often that routed troops can turn
and put on the defense those who have routed them."

"Yes, and they'll be on us in a minute," said Harry.

It was much lighter now, owing to the clearness of the moon and
the lifting of the smoke caused by a lull in the firing. But Harry
was right in his prediction. Within five minutes the Northern
artillery, sixty massed guns, opened with a frightful crash. Once
more that storm of steel swept through the woods, but now the lack of
daylight helped the Southerners. Many were killed and wounded, but
most of the rain of death passed over their heads, as they were all
lying on the ground awaiting the charge, and the Northern gunners,
not able to choose any targets, fired in the general direction of the
Southern force.

The cannon fire went on for several minutes, and then, with a
mighty shout, the Northern force charged, but in a great confused
struggle in the woods and darkness it was beaten back, and soon after
midnight the battle for that day ceased.

Yet there was no rest for the troops. Stuart, appreciating the
numbers of his enemy and fearing another attack, moved his forces to
the side to close up the gap between himself and Lee, in order that
the Southern army should present a solid line for the new conflict
that was sure to come in the morning.

All that night the Wilderness gave forth the sound of
preparations made by either side, and Harry neither slept nor had any
thought of it. He knew well that the battle was far from over, and he
knew also that the Union army had not yet been defeated. Hooker's
right wing had been crushed by the sudden and tremendous stroke of
Jackson, but his center had rallied powerfully on Chancellorsville,
and instead of a mere defense had been able to attack in the night
battle. The fall of Jackson, too, had paralyzed for a time the
Southern advance, and Lee, with the slender forces under his
immediate eye, had not been able to make any progress.

Harry and Dalton finally left the Invincibles and reported to
General Stuart, who instantly recognized Harry.

"Ah," he said, "you were on the staff of General Jackson!"

"Yes, sir," replied Harry, "and so was Lieutenant Dalton here.
We report to you for duty."

"Then you'll be on mine for to-night. After that General Lee
will dispose of you, but I have much for you both to do before
morning."

Stuart was acting with the greatest energy and foresight,
manning his artillery and strengthening his whole line. But he knew
that it was necessary to inform his commander-in-chief of all that
was happening, in order that Lee in the morning might have the two
portions of the Southern army in perfect touch and under his complete
command. He selected Wilbourn to reach him, and Harry was detailed
to accompany that gallant officer. They were well fitted to tell all
that had happened, as they had been in the thick of the battle and
had been present at the fall of Jackson.

The two officers, saying but little, rode side by side through
the Wilderness. They were so much oppressed with grief that they did
not have the wish to talk. Both were devotedly attached to Jackson,
and to both he was a hero, without fear and without reproach. They
heard behind them the occasional report of a rifle. But it was only
a little picket firing. Most of the soldiers, worn out by such
tremendous efforts, lay upon the ground in what was a stupor rather
than sleep.

As they rode forward they met pickets of their own men who told
them where Lee and his staff were encamped, and they rode on, still
in silence, for some time. Harry's cheeks were touched by a
freshening breeze which had the feel of coming dawn, and he said at
last:

"The morning can't be far away, Captain."

"No, the first light of sunrise will appear very soon. It seems
to me I can see a faint touch of gray now over the eastern
forest."

They were riding now through the force that had been left by
General Lee. Soldiers lay all around them and in all positions, most
to rise soon for the fresh battle, and some, as Harry could tell by
their rigidity, never to rise at all.

They asked again for Lee as they went on, and a sentinel
directed them to a clump of pines. Wilbourn and Harry dismounted and
walked toward a number of sleeping forms under the pines. The
figures, like those of the soldiers, were relaxed and as still as
death. The dawn which Harry has felt on his face did not appear to
the eye. It was very dark under the boughs of the pines, and they
did not know which of the still forms was Lee.

Wilbourn asked one of the soldiers on guard for an officer, and
Lee's adjutant-general came forward. Wilbourn told him at once what
had occurred, and while they talked briefly one of the figures under
the pines arose. It was that of Lee, who, despite his stillness, was
sleeping lightly, and whom the first few words had awakened. He put
aside an oilcloth which some one had put over him to keep off the
morning dew, and called:

"Who is there?"

"Messengers, sir, from General Jackson," replied Major Taylor,
the Adjutant-General.

General Lee pointed to the blankets on which he had been lying,
and said:

"Sit down here and tell me everything that occurred last
evening."

Wilbourn sat down on the blankets. Harry stood back a little.
The other staff officers, aroused by the talk, sat up, but waited in
silence. Captain Wilbourn began the story of the night, and Lee did
not interrupt him. But the first rays of the dawn were now stealing
through the pines, and when Wilbourn came to the account of Jackson's
fall, Harry saw the great leader's face pale a little. Lee, like
Jackson, was a man who invariably had himself under complete command,
one who seldom showed emotion, but now, as Wilbourn finished, he
exclaimed with deep emotion:

"Ah, Captain Wilbourn, we've won a victory, but it is dearly
bought, when it deprives us of the services of General Jackson, even
for a short time!"

Harry inferred from what he said that he did not think General
Jackson's wounds serious, and he wished that he could have the same
hope and belief, but he could not. He had felt the truth from the
first, that Jackson's wounds were mortal. Then Lee was silent so
long that Captain Wilbourn rose as if to go.

Lee came out of his deep thought and bade Wilbourn stay a little
longer. Then he asked him many questions about the troops and their
positions. He also gave him orders to carry to Stuart, and as
Wilbourn turned to go, he said with great energy:

"Those people must be pressed this morning!"

Then Wilbourn and Harry rode away at the utmost speed, guiding
their horses skilfully through lines of soldiers yet sleeping. The
freshening touch of dawn grew stronger on Harry's cheeks and he saw
the band of gray in the east broadening. Presently they reached
their own corps, and now they saw all the troops ready and eager.
Harry rode at once with Wilbourn to Stuart and fell in behind that
singular but able general.

Harry saw that Stuart's face was flushed with excitement. His
eyes fairly blazed. It had fallen to him to lead the great fighting
corps which had been led so long by Stonewall Jackson, and it was
enough to appeal to the pride of any general. Nor had he shed any of
the brilliant plumage that he loved so well. The great plume in his
gold-corded hat lifted and fluttered in the wind as he galloped
about. The broad sash of yellow silk still encircled his waist, and
on his heels were large golden spurs. Harry, as he followed him,
heard him singing to himself, "Old Joe Hooker, won't you come out of
the Wilderness?" That line seemed to have taken possession of
Stuart's mind.

All the staff and many of the soldiers along the battle front
noted the difference between their new commander and the one who had
fallen so disastrously in the night. There was never anything
spectacular about Jackson. In the soberest of uniforms, save once or
twice, he would ride along the battle front on his little sorrel
horse, making no gestures.

It was not until the soldiers saw Stuart in the light that they
knew of Jackson's fall. Then the news spread among them with
astonishing rapidity, and while they liked Stuart, their hearts were
with the great leader who lay wounded behind them. But eagerness for
revenge added to their warlike zeal. Along the reformed lines ran a
tremendous swelling cry: "Remember Jackson!"

They wheeled a little further to the right in order to come into
close contact with Lee, and then, as the first red touch of the dawn
showed in the Wilderness, the trumpets sounded the charge. The
batteries blazed as they sent forth crashing volleys, and in a minute
the thunder of guns came from the east and south, where Lee also
attacked as soon as he heard the sounds of his lieutenant's
charge.

Nothing could withstand the terrible onset of the troops who
were still shouting "Remember Jackson!" and who were led on by a
plumed knight out of the Middle Ages, shaking a great sabre and now
singing at the top of his voice his favorite line, "Old Joe Hooker,
won't you come out of the Wilderness?"

They swept away the skirmishers and seized the plateau of Hazel
Grove which had been of such use to Hooker the night before, and the
Southern batteries, planted in strength upon it, rained death on the
Northern ranks. The veterans with Lee rushed forward with equal
courage and fire, and from every point of the great curve cannon and
rifles thundered on the Union ranks.

Harry and Dalton stayed as closely as they could with their new
chief, who, reckless of the death which in truth he seemed to invite,
was galloping in the very front ranks, still brandishing his great
sabre, and now and then making it whirl in a coil of light about his
head. He continually shouted encouragement to his men, who were
already full of fiery zeal, but it was the spirit of Jackson that
urged them most. It seemed to Harry, excited and worshipping his
hero, that the figure of Jackson, misty and almost impalpable, still
rode before him.

But it was no mere triumphal march. They met stern and
desperate resistance. It was American against American. Once more
the superb Northern batteries met those of the South with a fire as
terrible as their own. The Union gunners willingly exposed
themselves to death to save their army, and from their breastworks
sixty thousand riflemen sent vast sheets of bullets.

But the Northern leader was gone. As Hooker leaned against a
pillar in the portico of the Chancellor House a shell struck it over
his head, the concussion being so violent that he was thrown to the
floor, stunned and severely injured. He was carried away,
unconscious, but the brave and able generals under him still
sustained the battle, and had no thought of yielding.

The Southern army, Lee and Stuart in unison, never ceased to
push the attack. The forces were now drawing closer together. The
lines were shorter and deeper. The concentrated fire on both sides
was appalling. Bushes and saplings fell in the Wilderness as if they
had been levelled with mighty axes.

Harry saw a vast bank of fire and smoke and then he saw shooting
above it pyramids and spires of flame. The Chancellor House and all
the buildings near it, set on fire by the flames, were burning
fiercely, springing up like torches to cast a lurid light over that
scene of death and destruction. Then the woods, despite their spring
sap and greenness, caught fire under the showers of exploding shells,
and their flames spread along a broad front.

The defense made by the Union army was long and desperate. No
men could have shown greater valor, but they had been surprised and
from the first they had been outgeneralled. An important division of
Hooker's army had not been able to get into the main battle. The
genius of Lee gathered all his men at the point of contact and the
invisible figure of Jackson still rode at the head of his men.

For five hours the battle raged, and at last the repeated
charges of the Southern troops and the deadly fire of their artillery
prevailed.

The Northern army, its breastworks carried by storm, was driven
out of Chancellorsville and, defeated but not routed, began its slow
and sullen retreat. Thirty thousand men killed or wounded attested
the courage and endurance with which the two sides had fought.

The Army of the Potomac, defeated but defiant and never crushed
by defeat, continued its slow retreat to Fredericksburg, and for a
little space the guns were silent in the Wilderness.

The men of Hooker, although surprised and outgeneralled, had
shown great courage in battle, and after the defeat of
Chancellorsville the retreat was conducted with much skill. Lee had
been intending to push another attack, but, as usual after the great
battles of the Civil War, Chancellorsville was followed by a terrific
storm. It burst over the Wilderness in violence and fury.

The thunder was so loud and the lightning so vivid that it
seemed for a while as if another mighty combat were raging. Then the
rain came in a deluge, and the hoofs of horses and the wheels of
cannon sank so deep in the spongy soil of the Wilderness that it
became practically impossible to move the army.

After a night of storm, Harry and Dalton rode forward with
Sherburne and his troop of cavalry, sent by Stuart to beat up the
enemy and see what he was doing. They found that Hooker's whole army
had crossed the river in the night on his bridges.

Twice the Northern army had been driven back across the
Rappahannock at the same place--after Fredericksburg and
Chancellorsville--but Harry felt no elation as he returned slowly
through the mud with Sherburne.

"If it were in my power," he said, "I'd gladly trade the victory
of Chancellorsville, and more like it, to have our General back."

By "our General" he of course meant Jackson, and both Sherburne
and Dalton nodded assent. The news had come to them that Jackson was
not doing well. His shattered arm had been amputated near the
shoulder, and the report spread through the army that he was sinking.
Just after the victory, Lee, with his wonted greatness of soul, had
sent him a note that it was chiefly due to him. Jackson, although in
great pain, had sent back word that General Lee was very kind, "but
he should give the praise to God."

The deep religious feeling was no affectation with him. It
showed alike in victory and suffering. It was a part of the man's
being, bred into every fiber of his bone and flesh.

As soon as the news of Hooker's escape across the Rappahannock
had been told, Harry and Dalton asked leave of Stuart to visit
General Jackson. It was given at once. Stuart added, moreover, that
he had merely taken them on his staff while the battle lasted. They
were now to return to their own chief. But his heart warmed to them
both and he said to them that if they happened to need a friend to
come to him.

They thanked Stuart and rode away, two very sober youths indeed.
Both were appalled by the vast slaughter of Chancellorsville. Harry
began to have a feeling that their victories were useless. After
every triumph the enemy was more numerous and powerful than ever.
And the cloud of Jackson's condition hung heavy over both. When he
was first struck down in the Wilderness, Harry had felt no hope for
him, and now that premonition was coming true.

They learned that he was in the Chandler House at a little place
called Guiney's Station, and they rode briskly toward it. They
passed many troops in camp, resting after their tremendous exertions,
many of whom knew them to be officers of Jackson's staff. They were
besieged by these. Young soldiers fairly clung to their horses and
demanded news of Jackson, who, they had heard, was dying. Harry and
Dalton returned replies as hopeful as they could make them, but their
faces belied their word. Gloom hung over the Southern army which had
just won its most brilliant victory.

Harry and Dalton found the same gloom at the Chandler House.
The officers who were there welcomed them in subdued tones, and in
the house everybody moved silently. The general's wife and little
daughter had just arrived from Richmond, and they were with him. But
after a while the two young lieutenants were admitted. Jackson spoke
a few words to both, as they bent beside his bed, and commended them
as brave soldiers. Harry knew now, when he looked at the thin face
and the figure scarcely able to move, that the great Jackson was
going.

They went out oppressed by grief, and sought the Invincibles,
whom they at last found encamped in an old orchard. Colonel Talbot
and Lieutenant- Colonel St. Hilaire sat beneath an apple tree, and
the chessboard was between them.

"They've been sitting there an hour," whispered Langdon, "but
they haven't made a single move, nor will they make one if they stay
there all day. It's in my mind that neither of them sees the
chessmen. Instead they see the General--they visited him this
morning."

Harry did not speak to the two colonels, but turned away.

"We found the body of Bertrand yesterday," said Langdon, "and
buried it just where he fell."

"I'm glad of that," said Harry.

Harry and Dalton lingered at the Chandler House with the staff
to which they belonged. Three days passed and Sunday came. Jackson
was sinking all the while, and that morning the doctor informed his
wife that he was about to die. Pneumonia had followed the weakness
from his wounds and his breathing had grown very faint. Mrs. Jackson
herself told him that all hope for him was gone, and he heard the
words with resignation.

After a while, as Harry learned, his mind began to wander. He
spoke in disjointed sentences of the army, of his battles, of his
boyhood and of his friends. This lasted into the afternoon, when he
sank into unconsciousness. Then came his death, and it was much like
that of Napoleon. He awoke suddenly from a deep stupor and cried
out, in a clear voice:

"Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action! Pass the infantry to
the front! Tell Major Hawks--"

He stopped, seemed to sink into a stupor again, but a little
later roused suddenly from it once more, and said, in the same clear
voice:

"Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the
trees."

Then, as his eyes closed, the soul of the great Christian
soldier passed into the fathomless beyond, to sit in peace with
Cromwell and Washington, and in time with Lee and Grant and Thomas,
who were yet to come.

That night a whole army wept.