They walked on a little more briskly and beside them the vast length of
the unsuccessful army still trailed its slow way back into the South.
The sun was setting in uncommon magnificence, clothing everything in a
shower of gold, through which the lilting notes of the music came to
Harry and Dalton's ears. Presently the two saw them, the short, dark men
from far Louisiana, not so many as they had been, but playing with all
the fervor of old, putting their Latin souls into their music.
"And there are the Invincibles just ahead of them!" exclaimed Dalton.
"The two colonels have left the wagon and are riding with their men.
See, how erect they sit."
"I do see them, and they're a good sight to see," said Harry. "I hope
they'll live to finish that chess game."
"And fifty years afterward, too."
A shout of joy burst from the road, and a tall young man, slender,
dark and handsome, rushed out, and, seizing the hands of first one and
then the other, shook them eagerly, his dark eyes glittering with happy
surprise.
"Kenton! Dalton!" he exclaimed. "Both alive! Both well!"
It was young Julien de Langeais, the kinsman of Lieutenant-Colonel Hector
St. Hilaire, and he too was unhurt. The lads returned his grasp warmly.
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