t looks like a good omen to me."

"And to me, too. We used to say that Old Jack was an army corps, and he
was, two of them for that matter. Then Sheridan is worth at least ten
thousand men to the Yankees. Good-by, we'd like to see more of your work
with the flags, but down below they need Captain St. Clair, who is a
terrible fighter. We can't hope to beat the Yankees with St. Clair away."

Mortimer smiled, waved them farewell, and, a few minutes later, was at
work once more with the flags. Meanwhile, Harry and St. Clair were
descending the mountain, pausing now and then to survey the valley with
their glasses, where they could yet mark the movements of the Northern
troops. When they reached the cove they found that the board and the
chess men were put away, and the two colonels were inspecting the
Invincibles to see that the last detail was done, while Early made ready
for his desperate venture.

Harry and his comrades were fully conscious that it was a forlorn hope.
They had been driven out of the valley once by superior numbers and
equipment, directed by a leader of great skill and energy, but now they
had come back to risk everything in a daring venture. The Union forces,
of course, knew of their presence in the old lines about Fisher's Hill--
Shepard alone was sufficient to warn them of it--but they could scarcely
expect an attack by a foe of small numbers, already defeated several
times.

Harry's thought of Shepard set him to surmising. The spy no longer
presented himself to his mind as a foe to be hated. Rather, he was an
official enemy whom he liked. He even remembered with a smile their long
duel when Lee was retreating from Gettysburg, and particularly their
adventure in the river. Would that duel between them be renewed?
Intuition told him that Shepard was in the valley, and if Sheridan was
worth ten thousand men the spy was worth at least a thousand.

The Invincibles were ready to the last man, and it did not require any
great counting to reach the last. Yet the two colonels, as they rode
before their scanty numbers, held themselves as proudly as ever, and the
hearts of their young officers, in spite of all the odds, began to beat
high with hope. The advance was to be made after dark, and their pulses
were leaping as the twilight came, and then the night.

The march of the Southern army to deal its lightning stroke was prepared
well, and, fortunately for it, a heavy fog came up late in the n