He had always won there,
and he always would win there.
Harry sighed, nevertheless. He had two heroes, but one of them was gone.
He thought again if only Stonewall Jackson had been at Gettysburg.
Lee's terrible striking arm would have smitten with the hammer of Thor.
He would have pushed home the attack on the first day, when the Union
vanguard was defeated and demoralized. He would have crushed the enemy
on the second day, leaving no need for that fatal and terrific charge of
Pickett on the third day.
"You reached the general first," said Dalton, "but I tried my best to
beat you."
"But I started first, George, old fellow. That gave me the advantage
over you."
"It's fine of you to say it. The army has quickened its pace since we
came. A part of it, at least, ought to arrive at the river to-morrow,
though their cavalry are skirmishing continually on our flanks. Don't
you hear the rifles?"
Harry heard them far away to right and left, like the faint buzzing of
wasps, but he had heard the same sound so much that it made no impression
upon him.
"Let 'em buzz," he said. "They're too distant to reach any of us,
and the Army of Northern Virginia is passing on."
Those were precious hours.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183