Clair and Langdon riding together.
Both had been wounded slightly, but their hurts had not kept them from
the saddle, and they were in cheerful mood.
"You've been further back than we, Harry," said St. Clair. "Is Meade hot
upon our track? We hear the throb of a cannon now and then."
"It doesn't mean anything. Meade hasn't moved. While we didn't win we
struck the Yankees such a mighty blow that they'll have to rest, and
breathe a while before they follow."
"And I guess we need a little resting and breathing ourselves," said
Langdon frankly. "There were times when I thought the whole world had
just turned itself into a volcano of fire."
"But we'll come back again," said St. Clair. "We'll make these
Pennsylvania Dutchmen take notice of us a second time."
"That's the right spirit," said Langdon. "Arthur had nearly all of his
fine uniform shot off him, but he's managed to fasten the pieces together,
and ride on, just as if it were brand new."
But Harry was silent. The prescient spirit of his famous great
grandfather, Henry Ware, had descended upon his valiant great grandson.
Hope had not gone from him, but it did not enter his mind that they
should invade Pennsylvania again.
"I'm glad to leave Gettysburg," he said.
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