Harry never took his eyes from Lee. The rising sun shot golden beams
through the smoke and disclosed him clearly. His face was calm and his
voice did not shake as he issued his orders with rapidity and precision.
The lion at bay was never more the lion.
A new line of battle was formed, and the fugitives formed up with it.
Then the Southern troops, uttering once more the fierce rebel yell,
charged directly upon their enemy and under the eye of the great chief
whom they almost worshiped.
Now Harry for the first time saw his general show excitement. Lee
galloped to the head of one of the Virginia regiments, and ranging his
horse beside the colors snatched off his hat and pointed it at the enemy.
It was a picture which with all the hero worship of youth he never
forgot. It did not even grow dim in his memory--the great leader on
horseback, his hat in his hand, his eyes fiery, his face flushed, his
hand pointing the way to victory or death.
It was an occasion, too, when the personal presence of a leader meant
everything. Every man knew Lee and tremendous rolling cheers greeted
his arrival, cheers that could be heard above the thunder of cannon and
rifles. It infused new courage into them and they gathered themselves
for the rush upon their victorious foe.
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