ght and in a driving snowstorm.

But the fierce spirit of Jackson was forced to yield at last. His
men, already the best marchers on the American continent, could go no
farther. The order was given to camp. Harry more than guessed how bitter
was the disappointment of his commander, and he shared it.

The men, half starved and often stiff with cold, sank down by the
roadside. They no longer asked for the wagons containing their food and
heavy clothing, because they no longer expected them. They passed from
high spirits to a heavy apathy, and now they did not seem to care what
happened. But the officers roused them up as much as possible, made them
build fires with every piece of wood they could find, and then let
them wrap themselves in their blankets and go to sleep--save for the
sentinels.

All night long the snow beat on Jackson's army lying there among the
mountains, and save for a few Union officers not far away, both North
and South wondered what had become of it.

It was known at Washington and Richmond that Jackson had left
Winchester, and then he had dropped into the dark. The eyes of the
leaders at both capitals were fixed upon the greater armies of McClellan
and Johnston, and Stonewall Jackson was not yet fully understood by
either. Nevertheless, the gaunt and haggard President of the North began
to feel anxiety about this Confederate leader who had disappeared with
his army in the mountains of Northern Virginia.

The telegraph wires were not numerous then, but they were kept busy
answering the question about Jackson. Banks and the other Union leaders
in the valley sent reassuring replies. Jackson would not dare to attack
them. They had nearly three times as many men as he, and it did not
matter what had become of him. If he chose to come, the sooner he came,
the sooner he would be annihilated. McClellan himself laughed at the
fears about Jackson. He was preparing his own great army for a march on
Richmond, one that would settle everything.

But the army of Jackson, nevertheless, rose from the snow the next
morning, and marched straight on the Union garrison. The rising was made
near Bath, and the army literally brushed the snow from itself before
eating the half of a breakfast, and taking to the road again, Jackson,
on Little Sorrel, leading them. Harry, as usual, rode near him.

Harry, despite exertions and hardships which would have overpowered
him six months before, did not feel particularly hungry