I believe we'll be in battle with
those men in the morning."
Harry thought so too. In truth, it was inevitable. Warren would advance
and Ewell would stand in his way. Yet he slept soundly when he went back
to camp, although he was awakened long before dawn the next day. Then he
ate breakfast, mounted and sat his horse not far away from Ewell, whom
two soldiers had strapped into his saddle, and who was watching with
eager eyes for the sunrise.
Harry, listening intently, heard no sound in front of them, save the wind
rippling through the dwarfed forests of the Wilderness, and he knew that
no battle had yet begun elsewhere. Sound would come far on that placid
May morning, and it was a certainty that Ewell was nearest to contact
with the enemy.
But Ewell did not yet move. All his men had been served with early
breakfast, such as it was, and remained in silent masses, partly hidden
by the forest and thickets. The dawn was cold, and Harry felt a little
chill, but it soon passed, as the red edge of the sun showed over the
eastern border of the Wilderness. Then the light spread toward the
zenith, but the golden glow failed to penetrate the somber thickets.
"It's going to be a good day," said Harry to an aide.
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