Gens. Grant, Sherman or Thomas could conduct a battle better. But the
moment that Si and Shorty seemed dazed by the multitude into which they
were launched, a revulsion of feeling developed, which soon threatened
to be ruinous to the partners' ascendancy.

During the uncomfortable, wakeful night the prestige of the partners
still further diminished. In their absence the army had been turned
topsy-turvy and reorganized in a most bewildering way. The old
familiar guide-marks had disappeared. Two of the great corps had been
abolished--consolidated into one, with a new number and a strange
commander. Two corps of strange troops had come in from the Army of
the Potomac, and had been consolidated into one, taking an old corps'
number. Divisions, brigades and regiments had been totally changed in
commanders, formation and position. Then the Army of the Tennessee had
come in, to complicate the seeming muddle, and the more that Si and
Shorty cross-questioned such stragglers as came by the clearer it seemed
to the boys that they were hopelessly bewildered, and the more depressed
the youngsters became.

The morning brought no relief. Si and Shorty talked together, standing
apart from the squad, and casting anxious glances over the swirling
mass of army activity, which the boys did not fail to note and read with
dismal forebodings.

"I do believe they're lost," whimpered little Pete Skidmore. "What
in goodness will ever become of us, if we're lost in this awful
wilderness?"

The rest shuddered and grew pale at this horrible prospect.

"That looks like a brigade headquarters over there," said Si, pointing
to the left. "And I believe that's our old brigade flag. I'm goin' over
there to see."

"I don't believe that's any brigade headquarters at all," said Shorty.
"Up there, to the right, looks ever so much more like a brigade
headquarters. I'm goin' up there to see. You boys stay right there, and
don't move off the ground till I come back. I won't be gone long."

As he left, the boys began to feel more lonely and hopeless than ever,
and little Pete Skidmore had hard work to restrain his tears.

A large, heavy-jowled man, with a mass of black whiskers, and wearing a
showy but nondescript uniform, appeared.

"That must be one o' the big Generals," said Harry Joslyn. "Looks like
the pictures o' Grant. Git into line, boys, and salute."

"No, it ain't Grant, neither," said Gid Mackall. "Too big. Must be Gen.
Thomas."

The a