le, where Longstreet and one of
the Hills fought a sanguinary draw with McClellan. But the Northern
commander, knowing that a drawn battle in the enemy's country was
equivalent to a defeat, continued his retreat and the Southern army
followed, attacking at every step. The roar of artillery resounded
continuously through the woods and the vanguard of one army and the rear
guard of the other never ceased their rifle fire.

Neither Harry nor his young comrades could ever get a clear picture
of the vast, confused battle amid the marshes of the Chickahominy,
extending over so long a period and known as the Seven Days, but it was
obvious to them now that Richmond was no longer in danger. The coming
of Jackson had enabled Lee to attack McClellan with such vigor and
fierceness that the young Northern general was forced not only to
retreat, but to fight against destruction.

But the Union mastery of the water, always supreme, was to come once
more to the relief of the Northern army. As McClellan made his retreat,
sometimes losing and sometimes beating off the enemy, but always leaving
Richmond further and further behind, he had in mind his fleet in the
James, and then, if pushed to the last extremity, the sea by which they
had come.

But there were many staunch fighters yet in his ranks, and the Southern
leaders were soon to find that they could not trifle with the Northern
army even in defeat. He turned at Malvern Hill, a position of great
strength, posted well his numerous and powerful artillery, and beat off
all the efforts of Lee and Jackson and Longstreet and the two Hills, and
Armistead and the others. More than five thousand of the Southern troops
fell in the fruitless charges. Then McClellan retreated to the James
River and his gunboats and the forces of the North were not to come as
near Richmond again for nearly three years.

The armies of Lee and Jackson marched back toward the Southern capital,
for the possession of which forty thousand men had fallen in the Seven
Days. Harry rode with Dalton, St. Clair and Langdon. They had come
through the inferno unhurt, and while they shared in the rejoicings
of the Virginia people, they had seen war, continued war, in its most
terrible aspects, and they felt graver and older.

By the side of them marched the thin ranks of the Invincibles, with the
two colonels, erect and warlike, leading them. Just ahead was Stonewall
Jackson, stooped slightly in the saddle, the thoughtful