Harry told him of Skelly's presence. The Colonel frowned,
but merely uttered three words about him.

"We'll watch him," he said.

Then the three went out and saw the little town grow into life and
seethe with the heat of the spirit. Although actual skirmishing had
taken place already in the state there was no violence here, except of
speech. All the members of the House and Senate were gathered, and
so far as Harry could observe the Southerners were in the majority.
Others thought so, too. Bertrand was sanguine. His eyes burned with
the fire of enthusiasm, lighting up his olive face.

"We'll win. We'll surely win!" he said. "This state which we need so
much will be out of the Union inside of two weeks."

But Senator Culver was more guarded in his opinion, or at least in the
expression of it.

"It's going to be a mighty hot fight," he said.

Harry and Dick together watched the convening of the Legislature,
having chosen seats in the upper lobby of the House. Harry looked for
Skelly, but not seeing him he inferred that the mountaineer's leave of
absence was short and that he had gone back to camp.

Dick himself left the next morning for Camp Dick Robinson, and Harry
shook his hand over and over again as he departed. The feeling between
the cousins was strong and it had been renewed by their meeting under
such circumstances.

"I may go east," said Dick, as he mounted his horse. "The big things
are going to happen there first."

Harry watched him as he rode away and he wondered when they would meet
again. Like Colonel Leonidas Talbot he felt now that this was going to
be a great war, wide in its sweep.

Harry returned to his hotel, very thoughtful. The second parting with
his cousin, who had been his playmate all his life, was painful, and
he realized that while he was wondering when and where they would meet
again it might never occur at all. He found his father and his friends
holding a close conference in his room at the hotel. Senator Culver,
Mr. Bracken, Gardner, the editor, and others yet higher in the councils
of the Confederacy, were there. Bertrand sat in a corner, saying little,
but watching everything with ardent, burning eyes.

Letters had come from the chief Southern leaders. There was one from
Jefferson Davis, himself, another from the astute Benjamin, another from
Toombs, bold and brusque as befitted his temperament, and yet more from
Stephens and Slidell and Yancey and others. C