The commander-in-chief was at the edge of the little
glade, talking earnestly with Hill, and several other important generals.
Harry often saw through the medium of his own feelings, and the rim of
the sun, beginning to show over the eastern edge of the Wilderness,
was blood red. The same crimson and sinister tinge showed through the
west which was yet in the dusk. But in east and west there were certain
areas of light, where the forest fires yet smoldered.
Both sides had thrown up hasty breastworks of earth or timber, but the
two armies were unusually silent. A space of perhaps a mile and a half
lay between them, but as the light increased neither moved. There was no
crackle of rifle fire along their fronts. The skirmishers, usually so
active, seemed to be exhausted, and the big guns were at rest. The
fierce and tremendous fighting of the two days before seemed to have
taken all the life out of both North and South.
Harry, inured to war, understood the reasons for silence and lack of
movement. Grant had been drawn into a region that he did not like,
where he could not use his superior numbers to advantage, and he must be
shuddering at the huge losses he had suffered already. He would seek
better ground.
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