rry heard for the first time in his life an extraordinary, choppy air,
a rapid beat that rose and fell abruptly, sending a powerful thrill
through his heart as he lay there in the bushes. The words were nothing,
almost without meaning, but the tune itself was full of compelling
power. It set the feet marching toward triumphant battle.

"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
Look away! Look away!
Down South in Dixie!"

Three or four hundred voices took up the famous battle song, as
thrilling and martial as the Marseillaise, then fresh and unhackneyed,
and they sang it with enthusiasm and fire, officers joining with the
men. It was a singular fact that Harry should first hear Northern
troops singing the song which was destined to become the great battle
tune of the South.

"What is it?" whispered Harry.

"It's called Dixie. They say it was written by a man in New York for a
negro minstrel show. I suppose they sing it in anticipation, meaning
that they will soon be in the heart of Dixie, which is the South,
our South."

"I don't think those baggy red legs will ever march far into our South,"
whispered Harry defiantly.

"It is to be seen. Between you and me, Harry, I'm convinced there is no
triumphant progress ahead for either North or South. Ah, another force
is coming and it's cavalry! Don't you hear the hoof-beats, Harry?"

Harry heard them distinctly and he and his comrade lay more closely than
ever in the bushes, because the horsemen, a numerous body, as the heavy
tread indicated, were passing very near. The two lads presently saw
them riding four abreast toward the campfire, and Harry surmised that
they had been scouting in strong force toward the Southern front.
They were large men, deep with tan and riding easily. Harry judged
their number at two hundred, and the tail of the company would pass
alarmingly near the bushes in which his comrade and he lay.

"Don't you think we'd better creep back?" he whispered to St. Clair.
"Some of them taking a short cut may ride right upon us."

"Yes, it's time to make ourselves scarce."

They turned back, going as rapidly as they dared, but that which Harry
had feared came to pass. The rear files of the horsemen, evidently
intending to go to the other side of the camp, rode through the low
bushes. Four of them passed so near the boys that they caught in the
moonlight a glimpse of the two stooping figures.