Nevertheless he was not yet sleepy, and lying on his blanket,
he watched the leaders confer, as they had conferred every other night
since the Battle of Gettysburg. He was aware, too, that the air was
heavy with suspense and anxiety. He breathed it in at every breath.
Cruel doubt was not shown by words or actions, but it was an atmosphere
which one could not mistake.
Word had been brought in the afternoon by hard riders of Stuart that the
Potomac was still rising. It could not be forded and the active Northern
cavalry was in between, keeping advanced parties of the Southern army
from laying pontoons. Every day made the situation more desperate,
and it could not be hidden from the soldiers, who, nevertheless, marched
cheerfully on, in the sublime faith that Lee would carry them through.
Harry knew that if the Army of the Potomac was not active in pursuit its
cavalrymen and skirmishers were. As on the night before, he heard the
faint report of shots, and he knew that rough work was going forward
along the doubtful line, where the fringes of the two armies almost met.
But hardened so much was he that he fell asleep while the generals were
still in anxious council, and the fitful firing continued in the distant
dark.
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