Chapter XIII. Gettysburg

The Star of Gettysburg

by Joseph A. Altsheler

Harry took many messages that night, and he witnessed the
gathering of the generals about Lee. He saw Ewell come, hobbling on
his crutches, eager for battle and disappointed that they had not
pushed the victory. Hill returned again, refusing to yield to his
illness. And there was Longstreet, thick-bearded, the best fighter
that Lee had since the death of Jackson; McLaws, Hood, Heth, Pender,
Jubal Early, Anderson and others, veterans of many battles, great and
small.

They talked long and earnestly and pointed many times to the
battlefield and the opposing heights. While they talked, a man
appeared among the men in blue on Cemetery Hill, accompanied only by
a staff officer and an orderly. He had ridden a long distance, and
naturally lean and haggard, these traits in his appearance were
exaggerated by weariness and anxiety. He looked as little like a
great general as Jackson had looked in those days before he had
sprung into fame.

His military hat was black and broad of brim, and the brim,
having become limp, drooped down over his face. There were
spectacles on his nose, and it is said of him that he could have been
taken more easily for a teacher than for a commander-in-chief. Thus
Meade came to his army in the decisive moment of his country's life.
He inspired neither enthusiasm nor discouragement. He looked upon
those left from the battle and upon the brigades which had come
since, thousands of men already sound asleep among the white stones
of the churchyard. Then he turned in a calm and businesslike manner
to the task of arranging a stern front for the storm which he knew
would burst upon them to-morrow. The respect of his officers for him
increased.

Lee's generals went to their respective commands. Harry once
more took orders, and, as he carried messages or brought them back,
he never failed to see all that he could. The great corps of Ewell
was drawn up on the battlefield of the day, Hill's forces extended to
Willoughby Run, and the Southern line was complete along the whole
curve. They also had the welcome news that Stuart at Carlisle had
heard of the battle and would be present with the cavalry on the
morrow.

Harry, riding about in the darkness, recovered much of his
spirits. The whole Southern army would be present in the morning, and
while Jackson was dead, his spirit might ride again at their head.
Now he awaited the dawn with confidence, believing that Lee would win
another great victory.

Harry was sent on his last errand far after midnight, and it
took him to one of Ewell's divisions, in the edge of Gettysburg. It
was a clear night, with a bright summer sky, a good moon and the
stars in their myriads twinkling peacefully over the panorama of
human passion and death. But they seemed very far away and cold to
the boy, who was chilled by the night and the impending sense of
mighty conflict. In Virginia they were fighting against the invader
and in defense of their own soil. Now they were the invader, and it
was the men in blue who defended.

As he passed over that battlefield, on which the dead and the
badly hurt yet lay, his heart was dissolved for the time in sadness.
The dead were thick all around him, and there were many hurt
seriously who were so still that he did not know whether they were
alive or not. He heard very few groans. He noticed often on the
battlefields that the hurt usually shut their teeth together and
endured in silence. As he approached one of the little streams, a
form twisted itself suddenly from his path, and a weak voice
exclaimed:

"For God's sake don't step on me!"

Harry looked down. It was a boy with yellow hair, younger than
himself. He could not have been over sixteen, but he wore a blue
uniform and a bullet had gone through his shoulder. Harry had a
powerful sensation of pity.

"I would not have stepped on you," he said. His duty urged him
on, but his feelings would not let him go, and he added:

"I'll help you."

He lifted the lad, rapidly cut away his coat, and slicing it
into strips, bound up tightly the two wounds in his shoulder where
the bullet had gone in and where it had come out.

"You've lost a lot of blood," he said, "but you've got enough
left to live on until you gather another supply, and you won't lose
any more now."

"Thank you," murmured the boy; "but you're very good for--for a
rebel."

Harry laughed.

"Why, you innocent child!" he said. "Have they been filling
your head with tales of our ferocity and cruelty?"

He went down to the stream, dipped up water in his cap, and
brought it back to the boy, who drank eagerly. Then he placed him in
a more comfortable position on the turf, and patting his head,
said:

"You'll get well sure, and maybe you and I will meet after the
war and be friends."

All of which came true. Its like happened often in this war.
But he went out of Harry's mind, as he walked on and delivered his
message in the edge of Gettysburg. He could not return before
seeking the Invincibles, who were surely here in the vanguard--if
they were yet alive. Harry shuddered. All his friends might have
perished in that whirlwind of death. He soon learned that they had
suffered greatly, but that those who were left were lying on the
grass of what had been a lawn.

He found the lawn quickly and saw dark figures strewed about
upon the ground. They were so still and silent that they looked like
the dead, but Harry knew that it was the stupor of exhaustion. As
they were inside the lines and needing no watch, there was no
sentinel.

Harry stepped over the low fence and looked again at the
figures. The moonlight silvered them and they did not stir. He could
not see a single form move. It was weird, uncanny, and the blood
chilled in his veins. But he shook himself violently, angry at his
weakness, and walked among them, looking for the two colonels and the
two lieutenants. A figure suddenly sat up before him and a dignified
voice said:

"Your footstep awakened me, Harry, and if there is a message, I
am here to receive it. But I ask you in the name of mercy to be
quick. I was never before so much overpowered that I could not hold
up my head a minute."

Before Harry could speak another figure rose.

"Yes, Harry, be quick if you can, and let us go back to sleep,"
said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire in a pleading voice.

"Thank God I've found you both. I have no message for you. I
was merely looking to see if all of you were alive."

"You've always had a kind heart, Harry," said Colonel Talbot,
"and we can't tell you how much we appreciate what you've done."

"Are St. Clair and Happy Tom here?"

"I cannot tell you. We suffered from such tremendous exhaustion
that our men fell upon the grass, we with them, and all of us sank
into stupor. But, Harry, they must be here! We couldn't have lost
those boys! Why, I can't think of them as not living!"

"If you'll let me make a suggestion, lie down and go to sleep
again," said Harry. "I'll find 'em."

The two colonels stretched a little, as if they were about to
rise and go with him, but the effort was beyond their powers. They
sank back and returned to sleep. Harry went on, his heart full of
fear for the two young friends who were so dear to him.

The survivors of the Invincibles lay in all sorts of positions,
some on their backs, some on their sides, some on their faces, and
others doubled up like little children. It was hard to recognize
those dark figures, but he came at last to one in a lieutenant's
uniform, and he was sure that it was Langdon. He was afraid at first
that he was dead, but he put his hand on his shoulder and shook
it.

There was no response, but Harry felt the warmth of the body
pass through the cloth to his hand, and he knew that Langdon was
living. He shook him again.

Happy opened his eyes slowly and regarded Harry with a long
stare.

"Are you a ghost?" he asked solemnly.

"No, I was never more alive than I am now."

"I don't believe you, Harry. You're a ghost and so am I. Look
at the dead men lying all around us. We're just the first up. Why,
Harry, nobody could go through the crater of an active volcano, as
we've done, and live. I was either burned to death or shot to death
with a bullet or blown to pieces with a shell. I don't know which,
but it doesn't matter. What kind of a country is this, Harry, into
which we've been resurrected?"

"Stop your foolishness, Happy. You're alive, all right,
although you may not be to-morrow night. The whole Army of the
Potomac is coming up and there's going to be another great
battle."

"Then it's just as well that I'm alive, because General Lee will
need me. But, Harry, don't you think I've answered enough questions
and that I've been awake long enough? Harry, remember that I'm your
friend and comrade, almost your brother, and let me go back to
sleep."

"Where is St. Clair? Was he killed?"

"No. A million shells burst over both of us, but we escaped them
all. But Arthur will be dead to the world for a while, just the same.
His is the fourth figure beyond me, but you couldn't wake him if you
fired a cannon at his ear, and in two minutes you won't be able to
wake me with another cannon."

Happy's head fell back as he spoke, and in less than half the
time he gave he had joined the band of the original seven sleepers.
Harry, stepping lightly over the slumbering figures--he had left his
horse on the hill--went back to the staff, where he saw that many
were yet watching. At the urgent advice of an older officer he
stretched himself between two blankets to protect his body from dew
and slept a little before dawn. He, too, had felt the exhaustion
shown by the Invincibles, but his nervous system was keyed highly,
too high, in fact, to sleep long. Moreover, he seemed to find some
new reserve of strength, and when Dalton put his hand upon his
shoulder he sprang to his feet, eager and active. Dalton had not
been sent on many errands the night before, and, sleeping longer than
Harry, he had been up a half hour earlier.

"You'll find coffee and food for the staff back a little," said
Dalton, "and I'd advise you to take breakfast, Harry."

"I will. What's going on?"

"Nothing, except the rising of the sun. See it, Harry, just
coming over the edge of the horizon behind those two queer hills."

The rim of the eastern sky was reddening fast, and Round Top and
Little Round Top stood out against it, black and exaggerated. They
were raised in the dawn, yet dim, to twice their height, and rose
like gigantic towers.

But there was light enough already for Harry to see masses of
men on the opposing slopes, and stone fences running along the
hillsides, some of which had been thrown up in the night by
soldiers.

"I take it that the whole Army of the Potomac is here," he
said.

"So our scouts tell us," replied Dalton. "Our forces are
gathered, too, except the six thousand infantry under Pickett and
McLaws and the cavalry under Stuart. But they'll come."

Harry and Dalton ate breakfast quickly, and, hurrying back,
stood near their chief, ready for any service. All the Southern
forces were in line. Heth held the right, Pender the left, and
Anderson, Hood, and McLaws and the others were stationed between.
The brilliant sun moved slowly on and flooded the town, the hills and
the battlefield of the day before with light. The officers of either
side with their powerful glasses could plainly see the hostile
troops. Harry had glasses of his own, and he looked a long time.
But he saw little movement in the hostile ranks. Meade and Hancock
and the others had worked hard in the hours of darkness and the Army
of the Potomac was ready.

Harry expected to hear the patter of rifles. Surely the battle
would open at once. But there was no sound of strife. It seemed
instead that a great silence had settled over the two armies and all
between. Perhaps each was waiting for the other to make the first
cast of the dice.

Harry studied Lee's face, but he could read nothing there. Like
Jackson he had the power of dismissing all expression. He wore a
splendid new uniform which had recently been sent to him by the
devoted people of Virginia, and with his height and majestic figure,
his presence had never seemed more magnificent than on that morning.
It was usually he who opened the battle, never waiting for the enemy,
but as yet he gave no order.

Longstreet, Hill and Hood presently joined Lee, and the four
walked a little higher up the ridge, where they examined the Northern
army for a long time through their glasses. Lee must have recognized
the strength of that position, the formidable ridges, the stone walls
bristling with batteries, all crowned with an army of veterans more
numerous than his own, and, even when Stuart and Pickett should come,
more numerous yet by fifteen thousand men. But his army, with the
habit of victory, was eager for battle, sure that it could win,
despite the numbers and position of the enemy.

The generals came back, but Lee said little. Harry often wished
that he could have penetrated the mind of the great commander that
morning, a mind upon which so much hung and which must have been
assailed by doubts and fears, despite the impenetrable mask of his
face. But he did not yet give any orders to attack, and Harry and
Dalton, who had nothing to do but look on, were amazed. There was
the Army of the Potomac waiting, and it was not Lee's habit to let it
wait.

Slow though the sun was, it was now far up the blue arch and the
day was intensely hot. The golden beams poured down and everything
seemed to leap out into the light. Harry clearly saw the Northern
cannon and now and then he saw an officer moving about. But the men
in blue were mostly still, lying upon their arms. The troops of his
own army were quiet also, and they, too, were lying down.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that no more fitting field for a
great and decisive battle could have been chosen. It was like a vast
arena, enclosed by the somber hills and the two Round Tops, on both
of which flew the flags of the Union signalmen.

Yet the day drew on. The two armies of nearly two hundred
thousand men merely sat and stared at each other. Noon passed and
the afternoon advanced. Harry yet wondered, as many another did.
But it was not for him to criticize. They were led by a man of
genius, and the great mind must be working, seeking the best way.

He and Dalton and some others lay down on the grass, while the
heavy silence still endured. Not a single cannon shot had been fired
all that day, and soon the sun would begin its decline from the
zenith.

"I think I'll go to sleep," said Dalton.

"You couldn't if you tried," said Harry, "and you know it. If
General Lee is waiting, it's because he has good reasons for waiting,
and you know that, too."

"You're right in both instances, Harry. I could never shut my
eyes on a scene like this, and, late as it grows, there will yet be a
battle to-day. Weren't some orders sent along the line a little
while ago?"

"Yes, the older men took 'em. What time is it, George?"

"Four o'clock." Then he closed his watch with a snap, and
added:

"The battle has begun."

The heavy report of a cannon came from the Southern right under
Longstreet. It sped up the valleys and returned in sinister echoes.
It was succeeded by silence for a moment, and then the whole earth
shook beneath a mighty shock. All the batteries along the Southern
line opened, pouring a tremendous volume of fire upon the whole
Northern position.

The young officers leaped to their feet. A volcano had burst.
The Union batteries were replying, and the front of both armies
blazed with fire. The smoke hung high and Harry and Dalton could see
in the valley beneath it. They caught the gleam of bayonets and saw
the troops of Longstreet advancing in heavy masses to the assault of
the slope where the peach trees grew, now known as the Peach Orchard.
Here stood the New Yorkers who had been thrust forward under
Sickles, a rough politician, but brave and in many respects capable.
There was some confusion among them as they awaited the Confederates,
Sickles, it is charged, having gone too far in his zeal, and then
endeavoring to fall back when it was too late. But the men under him
were firm. On this field the two great states of New York and
Pennsylvania, through the number of troops they furnished for it,
bore the brunt of the battle.

Harry and Dalton, crouched down in order that they might see
better under the smoke, watched the thrilling and terrible spectacle.
The Southern vanguard was made up of Texans, tall, strong, tanned
men, led by the impetuous Hood, and shouting the fierce Southern war
cry they rushed straight at the corps of Sickles. The artillery and
rifle fire swept through their ranks, but they did not falter. Many
fell, but the others rushed on, and Harry, although unconscious of
it, began to shout as he saw them cross a little stream and charge
with all their might against the enemy.

The combat was stubborn and furious. The men of Sickles
redoubled their efforts. At some points their line was driven in and
the Texans sought to take their artillery, but at others they held
fast and even threatened the Southern flank. They knew, too, that
reinforcements were promised to them and they encouraged one another
by saying they were already in sight.

Harry could not turn his eyes away from this struggle, much of
which was hidden in the smoke, and all of which was confused. The
cannon of Hill and Ewell were thundering elsewhere, but here was the
crucial point. The Round Tops rose on one side of the combatants.
Round Top itself seemed too lofty and steep for troops, but Little
Round Top, accessible to both men and cannon, would dominate the
field, and he believed that Hood, as soon as his men crushed Sickles,
would whirl about and seize it. But he could not yet tell whether
fortune favored the Blue or the Gray.

The generals from both sides watched the struggle with intense
anxiety and hurried forward fresh troops. Woods and rocks and slopes
helped the defense, but the attack was made with superior numbers.
Longstreet himself was directing the action and a part of Hill's men
were coming up to his aid. Sedgwick and Sykes, able generals, were
rushing to help Sickles. The whole combat was beginning to
concentrate about the furious struggle for the Peach Orchard and
Little Round Top.

Hood, in all the height of the struggle, saw the value of Little
Round Top and tried his utmost to seize it. Again the Northern
generals were to show that they had learned how to see what should be
done and to do it at once. Little Round Top rose up, dominant over
the whole field, a prize of value beyond all computation. Just then
it was the most valuable hill in all the world.

A Northern general, Warren, the chief engineer of the army, had
seen the value of Little Round Top as quickly as Hood. The signalmen
were about to leave, but he made them stay. An entire brigade,
hurrying to the battle, was passing the slope, when Warren literally
seized upon them by force of command and rushed the men and their
cannon to the crest.

Hood's soldiers were already climbing the slopes, when the fire
of the brigade, shell and bullets, struck almost in their faces.
Harry, watching through his glasses, saw them reel back and then go
on again, firing their own rifles as they climbed over the rocky
sides of Little Round Top. Again that fierce volley assailed them,
crashing through their ranks, and again they went on into the flame
and the smoke.

Harry saw the battle raging around the crest of Little Round
Top. Then he uttered a cry of despair. The Southerners, with their
ranks thin--woefully thin--were falling back slowly and sullenly.
They had done all that soldiers could do, but the commanding towers
of Little Round Top remained in Union hands, and the Union generals
were soon crowding it with artillery that could sweep every point in
the field below.

But Sickles himself was not faring so well. His men, fighting
for every inch of ground about the Peach Orchard, were slowly driven
back. Sickles himself fell, a leg shattered, and walked on one leg
for more than fifty years afterwards. Hood, his immediate opponent,
also fell, losing an arm then and a leg later at Chickamauga, but
Longstreet still pushed the attack, and the Northern generals who had
stood around Sickles resisted with the stubbornness of men who meant
to succeed or die.

Early in the battle Harry had seen General Lee walk forward to a
point in the center of his line and sit down on a smooth stump.
There he sat a long time, apparently impassive. Harry sometimes took
his eyes away from the combat for the Peach Orchard and Little Round
Top to watch his commander-in-chief. But the general never showed
emotion. Now and then General Hill or his military secretary,
General Long, came to him and they would talk a little together, but
they made no gestures. Lee would rise when the generals came, but
when they left he would resume his place on the stump and watch the
struggle through his glasses. Throughout the whole battle of that day
he sent a single order and received but one message. He had given
his orders before the advance, and he left the rest to his
lieutenants.

"I wish I could be as calm as he is," said Harry.

"I'll risk saying that he isn't calm inside," said Dalton. "How
could any man be at such a time?"

"You're right. Duck! Here comes a shell!"

But the shell fell short and exploded on the slope.

"Now listen, will you!" exclaimed Harry. "That's the
spirit!"

Immediately after the shell burst a Southern band began to play.
And it played the merriest music, waltzes and polkas and all kinds of
dances. Harry felt his feet move to the tunes, while the battle
below, at its very height, roared and thundered.

But he promptly forgot the musicians as he watched the battle.
He knew that the Invincibles were somewhere in that volcano of fire
and smoke, and it was almost too much to hope that they would again
come unhurt out of such a furious conflict. But they, too, passed
quickly from his mind. The struggle would let nothing else remain
there long.

He saw that the Union troops were still in the Peach Orchard and
that they were pouring a deadly fire also from Little Round Top.
Hancock had come to take the place of Sickles, and he was drawing
every man he could to his support. The afternoon was waning, but the
battle was still at its height. Men were falling by thousands, and
generals, colonels, majors, officers of all kinds were falling with
them. The Southerners had not encountered such resistance in any
other great battle, and the ground, moreover, was against them.

Yet the grim fighter, Longstreet, never ceased to push on his
brigades. The combat was now often face to face, and sharpshooters,
hidden in every angle and hollow of the earth, picked off men by
hundreds. The great rocky mass known as the Devil's Den was filled
with Northern sharpshooters and for a long time they stung the
Southern flank terribly, until a Southern battery, noticing whence
the deadly stream of bullets issued, sprayed it with grape and
canister until most of the sharpshooters were killed, while those who
survived fled like wolves from their lairs.

The day was now passing, but Harry could see no decrease in the
fury of the battle. Longstreet was still hurling his men forward,
and they were met with cannon and rifle and bayonet. The Confederate
line now grew more compact. The brigades were brought into closer
touch, and, gathering their strength anew, they rushed forward in a
charge, heavier and more desperate than any that had gone before.
Generals and colonels led them in person. Barksdale, young, but with
snow-white hair, was riding at the very front of the line, and he
fell, dying, in the Union ranks.

The Southern charge was stopped again on the left wing of the
Union army, and with the coming of the night the battle there sank,
but elsewhere the South was meeting with greater success. Ewell,
making a renewed and fierce attack at sunset, drove in the Northern
right, and, seconded by Early, took their defenses there. But the
darkness was coming fast, and although the firing went on for a long
time, it ceased at last, with the two enemies still face to face and
the battle drawn.

Harry, who had expected to see a glorious victory won by the
setting of the sun, was deeply depressed. His youth did not keep him
from seeing that very little advantage had been won in that awful
conflict of the afternoon, and he saw also that the Army of the
Potomac had been fighting as if it had been improved by defeat. Nor
had Lee thrown in his whole force where it was needed most. If
Jackson had only been there! Harry pictured his swift flank
movement, his lightning stroke, and the crumpling up of the enemy.
Jackson loomed larger than ever now to his disappointed and excited
mind.

Harry had been all day long and far into the night on Seminary
Hill. Often he had scarcely moved for an hour, and now, when the
firing ceased and he stood up and tried to peer into the valley of
death, he found his limbs so stiff for a minute or two that he could
scarcely move. His eyes ached and his throat was raw from smoke and
the fumes of burned gunpowder. But as he shook himself and stretched
his muscles, he regained firmness of both mind and body.

"We didn't win much," he said to Dalton.

"Not to-day, but we will to-morrow. Harry, wasn't it awful? It
looks to me down there like a pit of destruction."

And Dalton described it truly. The losses of the day before had
been doubled. Thirty thousand men on the two sides had now fallen,
and there was another day to come.

Harry saw that the generals themselves were assailed by doubts
and fears. He with other young staff officers witnessed the council
of Lee and his leading officers in the moonlight on Seminary Ridge.
Some spoke of retreat. A drawn battle in the enemy's country, and
with an inferiority of numbers, was for them equivalent to a defeat.
Others pointed out, however, that while their losses had been
enormous, the courage and spirit of the Army of Northern Virginia
were unshaken. Stuart with the cavalry, expected earlier, would
certainly be up soon, and, after all, the day had not been without
its gains. Longstreet held the Peach Orchard and Ewell was in the
Union defenses on the flank of Gettysburg.

But Lee thought most of the troops. These ragged veterans of
his who had been invincible asked to be led once more against the
enemy. A spirit so high as theirs could not be denied. His decision
was given. They would stay and smash the Union army on the morrow.

Harry heard of the decision. He had never doubted that it would
be so. They must surely win the next day with the addition of
Pickett's men and Stuart's cavalry. He wondered why Stuart had not
come up already, but he learned the next morning that a good reason
had held him back.

The Union cavalry, always vigilant now, had intercepted Stuart
in the afternoon and had given him battle, just when the combat of
the second day had begun at Gettysburg. Gregg led the horsemen in
blue and there was another combat like that at Brandy Station, now
about five thousand sabres on a side. There was a long and desperate
struggle in which neither force could win, young Custer in particular
showing uncommon skill and courage for the North, while Wade Hampton
performed prodigies for the South. At last they drew off by mutual
consent, Gregg into the forest, while Stuart, with his reduced force,
rode on in the night to Lee. But Gregg in holding back Stuart had
struck the Southern army a great blow.

Harry and Dalton with nothing to do received permission to go
among the soldiers, and as they marked their spirits, their own rose.
Then they passed down toward the battlefield. Harry had some idea
that they might again find the Invincibles, as they had found them
the night before, but their time was too short. The Invincibles were
somewhere in the front, he learned, and, disappointed, he and Dalton
turned back into the valley.

The night was clear and bright, and they saw many men coming and
going from a cold spring under the shadow of the trees. Some of them
were wounded and limped painfully. Others carried away water in
their hats and caps for comrades too badly wounded to move. Harry
observed that some wore the blue, and some the gray. Both he and
Dalton were assailed by a burning thirst at the sight of the water,
and they went to the spring.

Here men who an hour or two ago had been striving their utmost
to kill one another were gathered together and spoke as friends.
When one went away another took his place. No thought of strife
occurred to them, although there would be plenty of it on the morrow.
They even jested and foes complimented foes on their courage. Harry
and Dalton drank, and paused a few moments to hear the talk.

The moon rode high, and it has looked down upon no more
extraordinary scene than this, the enemies drinking together in
friendship at the spring, and all about them the stony ramparts of
the hills, bristling with cannon, and covered with riflemen, ready
for a red dawn, and the fields and ridges on which thirty thousand
had already fallen, dead or wounded.

"Another meeting, Mr. Kenton," said a man who had been bent down
drinking. As he rose the moonlight shone full upon his face and
Harry was startled. And yet it was not strange that he should be
there. The face revealed to Harry was one of uncommon power. It
seemed to him that the features had grown more massive. The powerful
chin and the large, slightly curved nose showed indomitable spirit
and resolution. The face was tanned almost to blackness by all kinds
of weather. Harry would not have known him at first, had it not been
for his voice.

"We do meet in unexpected places and at unexpected times, Mr.
Shepard," he said.

"I'm not merely trying to be polite, when I tell you that I'm
glad to find you alive. You and I have seen battles, but never
another like this."

"And I can truthfully welcome you, Mr. Shepard, as an old
acquaintance and no real enemy."

It was an impulse but a noble one that made the two, different
in years and so unlike, shake hands with a firm and honest grip.

"Your army will come again in the morning," said Shepard, not as
a question, but as a statement of fact.

"Can you doubt it?"

"No, I don't, but to-morrow night, Mr. Kenton, you will recall
what I told you at our first meeting in Montgomery more than two
years ago."

"You said that we could not win."

"And you cannot. It was never possible. Oh, I know that you've
won great victories against odds! You've done better than anybody
could have expected, but you had genius to help you, while we were
led by mediocrity in the saddle. But you have reached your zenith.
Mark how the Union veterans fought today. They're as brave and
resolute as you are, and we have the position and the men. You'll
never get beyond Gettysburg. Your invasion is over. Hereafter you
fight always on the defensive."

Harry was startled by his emphasis. The man spoke like an
inspired prophet of old. His eyes sparkled like coals of fire in the
dark, tanned face. The boy had never before seen him show so much
emotion, and his heart sank at the appalling prophecy. Then his
courage came back.

"You predict as you hope, Mr. Shepard," he said.

Shepard laughed a little, though not with mirth, and said:

"It is well that it should be settled here. There will be death
on a greater scale than any the war has yet seen, but it will have to
come sooner or later, and why not at Gettysburg? Good-bye, I go back
to the heights. May we both be alive to-morrow night to see which is
right."

"The wish is mine, too," said Harry sincerely.

Shepard turned away and disappeared in the darkness. Harry
rejoined Dalton who was on the other side of the spring, and the two
returned to Seminary Ridge, where they walked among sleeping
thousands. They found their way to their comrades of the staff, and
their physical powers collapsing at last they fell on the ground
where they soon sank into a heavy sleep. The great silence came
again. Sentinels walked back and forth along the hostile lines, but
they made no noise. There was little moving of brigades or cannon
now. The town itself became a town of phantom houses in the
moonlight, nearly all of them still and deserted. On all the slopes
of the hostile ridges lay the sleeping soldiers, and on the rocks and
fields between lay the dead in thousands. But from the crest of
Little Round Top, the precious hill so hardly won, the Union officers
watched all through the night, and, now and then, they went through
the batteries for which they were sure they were going to have great
use.

Harry and Dalton awoke at the same time. Another day, hot and
burning, had come, and the two armies once more looked across the
valley at each other. Harry soon heard the booming of cannon off to
his right, where Ewell's corps stood. It came from the Northern guns
and for a long time those of the South did not answer. But after a
while Harry's practiced ear detected the reply. The hostile wings
facing each other were engaged in a fierce battle. He saw the flash
of the guns and the rising smoke, but the center of the Army of
Northern Virginia and the other wing did not yet move. He looked
questioningly at Dalton and Dalton looked questioningly at him.

They expected every instant that the combat would spread along
the entire front, but it did not. For several hours they listened to
the thunder of the guns on the left, and then they knew by the
movement of the sound that the Southern wing had been driven back,
not far it is true, but still it had been compelled to yield, and
again Harry's heart sank.

But it rose once more when he concluded that Lee must be massing
his forces in the center. The left wing had been allowed to fight
against overwhelming numbers in order that the rest of the army might
be left free to strike a crushing blow.

Then noon came and the battle on their left died completely.
Once more the great silence held the field and Harry was mystified
and awed. Lee, as calm and impassive as ever, said little. The
ridges confronted one another, bristling with cannon but the armies
were motionless. The day was hotter than either of those that had
gone before. The sun, huge and red, poised in the heavens, shot down
fiery rays in millions. Harry gasped for breath, and when at last he
spoke in the stillness his voice sounded loud and harsh in his own
ears.

"What does it mean, George?" he said.

"I don't know, but I think they are massing behind us for a
charge."

"Not against the sixty or seventy thousand men and the scores of
cannon on those heights?"

"Maybe not yet. It's likely there will be a heavy artillery
fire first. Yes, I'm right! There go the guns!"

One cannon shot was followed by many others, and then for a
while a tremendous cannonade raged along the front of the armies, but
it too died, the smoke lifted, and then came the breathless, burning
heat again.

The fire of the sun and of the battle entered Harry's brain.
The valley, the town, the hills, the armies, everthing swam in a red
glare. The great pulses leaped in his throat. He was anxious for
them to go on, and get it over. Why were the generals lingering when
there was a battle to be finished? Half the day was gone already and
nothing was decided.

Conscious that he was about to lose control of himself he
clasped his hands to his temples and pressed them tightly. At the
same time he made a mighty effort of the will. The millions of black
specks that had been dancing before his eyes went away. The solid
earth ceased to quiver and settled back into its place, careless of
the armies that trampled over it. Again he clearly saw through his
glasses the long lines of men in blue along the slopes and on the
crest of Cemetery Hill. He marked, too, there, at the highest point,
a clump of trees waving their summer green in the hot sunshine.
Turning his glasses yet further he saw the massed artillery on Little
Round Top, and the gunners leaning on their guns. A house, set on
fire purposely or by shells, was burning brightly, like some huge
torch to light the way to death.

"You told me they were preparing for a charge," he said to
Dalton.

"So they are, Harry. Pickett's men, who have not been here
long, are forming up in the rear, but their advance will be preceded
by a cannonade. You can see them wheeling guns into line."

Lee, with Hill and Longstreet, had recently ridden along the
lines followed by the older staff officers, and often shells and the
bullets of sharpshooters had struck about them, but they remained
unhurt. Now Lee stopped at one of his old points of observation. It
was now about one o'clock in the afternoon, and as the last gun took
its place the whole artillery of the Southern army opened with a fire
so tremendous that Harry felt the earth trembling, and he was
compelled to put his fingers in his ears lest he be deafened.

A storm of metal flew across the valley toward the Northern
ranks, but the guns there did not reply yet. The Union troops lay
close behind their intrenchments and mostly the storm beat itself to
pieces on the side of the hill. The smoke soon became so great that
Harry could not tell even with glasses what was going on in the
enemy's ranks, but he inferred from the fact that they were not yet
replying that they were not suffering much.

But in a quarter of an hour the tremendous cannonade was
suddenly doubled in volume. The Union guns were now answering. Two
hundred cannon facing one another across the valley were fighting the
most terrible artillery duel ever known in America. The air was
filled with shells, shot, grape, shrapnel, canister and every form of
deadly missile.

Harry and Dalton sprang to cover, as some of the shells struck
about them, but they stood up again when they saw that Lee was
talking calmly with his generals.

The Southern fire was accurate. General Meade's headquarters
were riddled. Many important officers were wounded, but the Northern
gunners, superb always, never flinched from their guns. They fell
fast, but others took their places. Guns were dismounted but those
in the reserve were brought up instead.

The appalling tumult increased. The shells shrieked as they
flew through the air in hundreds, and shrapnel and grape whined
incessantly. Harry thought it in very truth the valley of
destruction, and it was a relief to him when he received an order to
carry and could turn away for a little while. He saw now in the rear
the brigades of Pickett which were forming up for the charge, about
four thousand five hundred men who had not yet been in the battle,
while nearly ten thousand more, under Trimble, Pettigrew and Wilcox,
were ready to march on their flanks. Pickett's men were lying on
their arms patiently waiting. The time had not quite come.

When Harry came back from his errand the cannonade was still at
its height. The roar was continuous, deafening, shaking the earth
all the time. A light wind blew the smoke back on the Southern
position, but it helped, concealing their batteries to a certain
extent, while those of the North remained uncovered.

The Northern army was now suffering terribly, although its
infantry stood unflinching under the fire. But the South was
suffering too. Guns were shattered, and the deadly rain of missiles
carried destruction into the waiting regiments. Harry saw Lee and
Longstreet continually under the Union fire. They visited the
batteries and encouraged the men. Showers of shells struck around
them, but they went on unharmed. Wherever Lee appeared the tremendous
cheering could be heard amid the roar of the guns.

Now the Southern artillerymen saw that their ammunition was
diminishing fast. Such a furious and rapid fire could not be carried
on much longer, and Lee sent the word to Pickett to charge. Harry
stood by when the men of Pickett arose--but not all of them. Some
had been struck by the shells as they lay on the ground and had died
in silence, but their comrades marched out in splendid array, and a
vast shout arose from the Southern army as they strove straight into
the valley of death.

Harry shouted with the rest. He was wild with excitement.
Every nerve in him tingled, and once more the black specks danced
before his eyes in myriads. Peace or war! Right or wrong! He was
always glad that he saw Pickett's charge, the charge that dimmed all
other charges in history, the most magnificent proof of man's courage
and ability to walk straight into the jaws of death.

The dauntless Virginians marched out in even array, stepping
steadily as if they were on parade, instead of aiming straight at the
center of the Union army, where fifty thousand riflemen and a hundred
guns were awaiting them. Their generals and those of the supporting
divisions rode on their flanks or at their head. Besides Pickett,
Garnett, Wilcox, Armistead, Pettigrew and Trimble were there.

The Southern cannon were firing over the heads of the marching
Virginians, covering them with their fire, but the light breeze
strengthened a little, driving away the smoke. There they were in
the valley, visible to both friend and foe, marching on that long
mile from hill to hill. The Southern army shouted again, and it is
true that, at this moment, the Union ranks burst into a like cry of
admiration, at the sight of a foe so daring, men of their own race
and country.

But Harry never took his eyes for a moment from Pickett's
column. He was using his glasses, and everything stood out strong and
clear. The sun was at the zenith, pouring down rays so fiery that the
whole field blazed in light. The nature of the ground caused the
Virginians to turn a little, in order to keep the line for the Union
center, but they preserved their even ranks, and marched on at a
steady pace.

Harry began to shout again, but in an instant or two he saw a
line of fire pass along the Union front. Forty guns together opened
upon the charging column, and Hancock at the Union center, seeing and
understanding the danger, was heaping up men and cannon to meet
it.

The shells began to crash into the ranks of the Virginians and
the ten thousand on their flanks. Men fell in hundreds and now the
batteries on Little Round Top added to the storm of fire. The clouds
of smoke gathered again, but the wind presently scattered them and
Harry, waiting in agony, saw Pickett's division marching straight
ahead, never faltering.

But he groaned when he saw that there was trouble on the flanks.
The men of Pettigrew, exhausted by the great efforts they had already
made in the battle, wavered and lost ground. Another division was
driven back by a heavy flank attack. Others were lost in the vast
banks of smoke that at times filled the valley. Only the Virginians
kept unbroken ranks and a straight course for the Union center.

Pickett paused a few moments at the burning house for the others
to get in touch with him, but they could not do so, and he marched
on, with Cemetery Hill now only two hundred yards away. The covering
fire of the Southern cannon had ceased long since. It would have
been as dangerous now to friend as to foe. Harry, watching through
his glasses, uttered another cry. Pickett and his men were marching
alone at the hill. Half of them it seemed to him were gone already,
but the other half never paused. The fire of a hundred guns had been
poured upon them, as they advanced that deadly mile, but with ranks
still even they rushed straight at their mark, the Union center.

Then Harry saw all the slopes and the crest of Cemetery Hill
blaze with fire. The Virginians were near enough for the rifles now,
and the bullets came in sheets. Harry saw it, and he groaned aloud.
He no longer had any hope for those brave men. The charge could not
succeed!

Yet he saw them rush into the Union ranks and disappear. A
group in gray, still cleaving through the multitude, reappeared far
up the slope, and then burst, a little band of a few dozen men, into
the very heart of the Union center, the point to which they had been
sent.

A battle raged for a few minutes under the clump of trees where
Hancock had stood directing. There Armistead, who had led them, his
hat on the point of his sword, fell dead among the Northern guns, and
Cushing, his brave foe who commanded the battery, died beside him.
All the others fell quickly or were taken. A few hundreds on the
slopes cut their way back through the Union army and reached their
own. Pickett, preserved by some miracle, was among them.

Harry gasped and threw down his glasses. Now he knew that the
words Shepard had spoken to him the night before at the spring were
true. The Southern invasion had been rolled back forever.

He looked at General Lee, who on foot had been watching the
charge. The impenetrable mask was gone for a moment, and his face
expressed deep emotion. Then the great soul reasserted itself and
mounting his horse went forward to meet the fugitives and encourage
them. He rode back and forth among them, and Harry heard him say
once:

"All will come right in the end. We'll talk it over afterward,
but meanwhile every good man must rally. We want all good and true
men just now."

His manner was that of a father to his children, and, though
they had failed, the spontaneous cheers again burst forth wherever he
passed. The wounded as they were carried to the rear raised
themselves up to see him, and their cheers were added to the
others.

Harry never forgot anything that he saw or heard then. Although
the battle, in effect, was over, the Northern artillery, roaring and
thundering triumphantly, was sending its shells across the valley and
upon Seminary Ridge. But he did not think anything of them, even
when they struck near him. It would be days before he could feel
fear again. He heard Lee say to an officer who rode up, and stated,
between sobbing breaths, that his whole brigade was destroyed:

"Never mind, General. All this has been my fault. It is I who
have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way
you can."

To another he said:

"This has been a sad day for us, a sad day. But we can't expect
always to gain victories."

Beholding such greatness of soul, Harry regained his own
composure. He rejoined Dalton, and soon they saw the Southern army
reform its lines, and turn a bristling front to the enemy. The
Northern cannon were still flashing and thundering, but the Northern
army made no return attack. Gettysburg, in all respects the greatest
battle ever fought on the American continent, was over, and fifty
thousand men had fallen.

The sun set, and Harry at last sank on the ground overpowered.
The next day the two armies stood on their hills looking at each
other, but neither cared to renew the battle after such frightful
losses. That afternoon a fearful storm of thunder, lightning and
rain burst over the field. It seemed to Harry an echo of the real
battle of the day before.

That night Lee, having gathered up his wounded, his guns and his
wagons, began his retreat toward the South. His army had lost, but
it was still in perfect order, willing, even anxious to fight again.
The wagons containing the wounded and the stores stretched for many
miles, moving along in the rain, and the cavalry rode on their flanks
to protect them.

It was not until the next morning that Harry discovered anything
of the Invincibles. In the dawn he saw a covered wagon by the side
of which rode an officer, much neater in appearance than the others.
He knew at once that it was St. Clair and he galloped forward with a
joyous shout.

"Arthur! Arthur!" he cried.

St. Clair turned a pale face that lighted up at the sight of his
friend.

"Thank God, you're alive, Harry!" he said, as their hands
clasped.

"Are you alone left?" asked Harry.

"Look into the wagon," he said.

Harry lifted a portion of the flap, and, looking in, saw Colonel
Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire sitting on
rolls of blankets facing each other. One had his right arm in a
sling and the other the left, but the chessmen rested on a board
between them and they were playing intently. They stopped a moment
or two to give Harry a glad welcome. Then he let the flap drop
back.

"They began at daylight," said St. Clair.

"Where's Happy?"

"He's in the wagon, too. He's lying on some blankets behind
them."

"Not hurt badly?"

"He was nipped in the shoulder, but it doesn't amount to
anything. What he wanted was sleep and he's getting it. He told me
not to wake him up again for a month."

"Well, Arthur, we lost."

"Yes, and I don't know just how it happened."

"But we're here, ready to fight them again whenever they
come."

"So we are, Harry, and if they ever reach Richmond it will be
many a long day before they do it."

"I say so, too."

The great train toiled on through the mud, and the Army of
Northern Virginia continued its slow march southward.