n near Harry, and the boy knew that
this was General Scott, the Virginian, who had led the famous and
victorious march into the City of Mexico, and who was now in name,
but in name only, commander of the Northern army. His father had served
under him in those memorable battles and Harry looked at him with a
certain veneration, as the old man passed on and disappeared in another
room. Then came more, some famous and others destined to be so.

The atmosphere of the great building was surcharged. Harry and his
comrades had heard that the North was discouraged, that the people
would not fight, that they would "let the erring sisters go in peace."
It did not seem so to him here. The talk was all of war and of invading
the South, and he seemed to feel a tenacious spirit behind it.

He managed to secure entrance to the lobbies of both Senate and House,
and he listened for a while to the debates. He discovered the same
spirit there. He felt that he had a right to report not only on the
forts of Washington and the movements of brigades, but also on the
temper in the North. Resolution and tenacity, he now saw, were worth
as much as cannon balls.

Harry did not leave the Capitol until the middle of the afternoon,
when he drifted back to the restaurant at which he had obtained his
breakfast, where he spent the other half of the dollar for luncheon.
Then he resolved to escape from Washington that night. He had picked up
by casual talk and observation together a fair knowledge of Washington's
defenses. Above all he had learned that the North was pouring troops in
an unbroken stream into the capital, and that the great advance on the
line of Bull Run would take place very soon. He could scarcely expect
to achieve more; he had already surpassed his hopes, and it was surely
time to go.

He left the restaurant. The streets were still crowded, and he saw
standing at the nearest corner a figure that seemed familiar. He took a
long look, and then he was shaken with alarm. It was Shepard. He had
seen him under such tense conditions that he could never forget the man.
The turn of his shoulders, the movement of his head--all were familiar.
And Harry had a great respect for the keenness and intelligence of
Shepard. He could not forget how Shepard had talked to him that night
in Montgomery. There was something uncanny about the man, and he had a
sudden conviction that Shepard had seen him long since and was watching
him. He