ve put Shepard forever out of the
way, but that his heart had failed him. Yet he did not feel remorse nor
any sense of treachery to his cause. He would do the same were the same
chance to come again. But it seemed to him now that a duel had begun
between Shepard and himself. They had been drifting into it, either
through chance or fate, for a long time. He knew that he had a most
formidable antagonist, but he felt a certain elation in matching himself
against one so strong.

They rode all night and the next day across the strip of Maryland into
Virginia and once more were among their own people, their undoubted own.
They were now entering the Valley of Virginia where the great Jackson had
leaped into fame, and both Harry and Dalton felt their hearts warm at the
greetings they received. Both armies had marched over the valley again
and again. It was torn and scarred by battle, and it was destined to
be torn and scarred many times more, but its loyalty to the South stood
every test. This too was the region in which many of the great Virginia
leaders were born, and it rejoiced in the valor of its sons.

Food and refreshment were offered everywhere to the two young horsemen,
and the women and the old men--not many young men were left--wanted to
hear of Gettysburg. They would not accept it as a defeat. It was merely
a delay, they said. General Lee would march North once more next year.
Harry knew in his heart that the South would never invade again, that
the war would be for her henceforth a purely defensive one, but he said
nothing. He could not discourage people who were so sanguine.

Every foot of the way now brought back memories of Jackson. He saw many
familiar places, fields of battle, sites of camps, lines of advance or
retreat, and his heart grew sad within him, because one whom he admired
so much, and for whom he had such a strong affection, was gone forever,
gone when he was needed most. He saw again with all the vividness of
reality that terrible night at Chancellorsville, when the wounded Jackson
lay in the road, his young officers covering his body with their own to
protect him from the shells.

When they reached the strip of railroad entering Richmond they left their
horses to be sent later, and each took a full seat in the short train,
where he could loosen his belt, and stretch his limbs. It was a crude
coach, by the standards of to-day, but it was a luxury then. Harry
and Dalton enjoyed it