Old Jack was gone to take his place with the great heroes of
the past, but the Army of Northern Virginia was there, with Lee leading
them, and the most formidable of all the Northern chiefs with the most
formidable of all the Northern armies was before them.
He heard the distant thud of hoofs and with instinctive caution drew back
into a dense clump of bushes. A half-dozen horsemen were near and their
eager looks in every direction told Harry that they were scouts. There
was little difference then between a well worn uniform of blue or gray,
and they were very close before Harry was able to tell that they belonged
to Grant's army.
He was devoutly glad that his horse was trained thoroughly and stood
quite still while the Northern scouts passed. A movement of the bushes
would have attracted their attention, and he did not wish to be captured
at any time, least of all on the certain eve of a great battle. After a
battle he always felt an extra regret for those who had fallen, because
they would never know whether they had won or lost.
They were alert, keen and vigorous men, or lads rather, as young as
himself, and they rode as if they had been Southern youths almost born
in the saddle. Harry was not the only one to notice how the Northern
cavalry under the whip hand of defeat had improved so fast that it was
now a match, man for man, for that of the South.
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