s but one thing to do, stand with their backs to the river and
fight, if Meade chose to offer battle.
He slept heavily, and when he awoke the next day Dalton, who was up
before him, informed him that the Northern army was at hand. Snatching
breakfast, he and Dalton, riding close behind the commander-in-chief,
advanced a little distance and standing upon a knoll surveyed the
thrilling spectacle before them. Far along the front stretched the Army
of the Potomac, horse, foot and guns, come up with its enemy again.
Harry was sure that Meade was there, and with him Hancock and Buford and
Warren and all the other valiant leaders whom they had met at Gettysburg.
It was nine days since the close of the great battle, and doubtless the
North had poured forward many reinforcements, while the South had none
to send.
Harry appreciated the full danger of their situation, with the larger
army in front of them, and the deep and swollen torrent of the Potomac
behind them. But he did not believe that Meade would attack. Lee had
lost at Gettysburg, but in losing he had inflicted such losses upon his
opponent, that most generals would hesitate to force another battle.
The one who would not have hesitated was consolidating his great triumph
at Vicksburg. Harry often thought afterward what would have happened had
Grant faced Lee that day on the wrong side of the Potomac.
His opinion that Meade would not attack came from a feeling that might
have been called atmospheric, an atmosphere created by the lack of
initiative on the Union side, no clouds of skirmishers, no attacks of
cavalry, very little rifle firing of any kind, merely generals and
soldiers looking at one another. Harry saw, too, that his own opinion
was that of his superior officer. Watching the commander-in-chief
intently he saw a trace of satisfaction in the blue eyes. Presently
all of them rode back.
Thus that day passed and then another wore on. Harry and Dalton had
little to do. The whole Army of Northern Virginia was in position,
defiant, challenging even, and the Army of the Potomac made no movement
forward. Harry watched the strange spectacle with an excitement that he
did not allow to appear on his face. It was like many of those periods
in the great battles in which he had taken a part, when the combat died,
though the lull was merely the omen of a struggle, soon to come more
frightful than ever.
But here the struggle did not come. The hours of the
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