orderly bearing Burnside's dispatches. But neither
Harry nor Dalton knew anything of Burnside's plans. They were merely
waiting for any errand upon which Jackson should choose to send them.
Several other staff officers were present, and as Jackson wrote his
orders, he gave them in turn to be taken to those for whom they were
intended.

Harry, after three such trips of his own, sat down again near the door
of the tent and watched his great leader. Jackson sat at a little table,
on a cane-bottomed chair, and he wrote by the light of a single candle.
His clothing was all awry and he had tossed away the gold-braided cap.
His face was worn and drawn, but his eyes showed no signs of weariness.
The body might have been weak, but the spirit of Jackson was never
stronger.

Harry knew that Jackson after victory wasted no time exulting, but was
always preparing for the next battle. The soldiers, both in his own
division and elsewhere, were awakened by turns, and willing thousands
strengthened the Southern position. More and deeper trenches were
constructed. New abatis were built and the stone wall was strengthened
yet further. Formidable as the Southern line had been to-day, Burnside
would find it more so on the morrow.

After midnight, Jackson, still in his gorgeous uniform and with boots
and spurs on, too, lay down on his bed and slept about three hours.
Then he aroused himself, lighted his candle and wrote an hour longer.
Then he went to the bedside of the dying Gregg and sat a while with him,
the staff remaining at a respectful distance.

When they rode back--they were mounted again--they passed along the
battle front, and the sadness which was so apparent on Jackson's face
affected them. It was far toward morning now and the enemy was lighting
his fires on the plain below. The dead lay where they had fallen,
and no help had yet been given to those wounded too seriously to move.
It had been a tremendous holocaust, and with no result. Harry knew now
that the North would never cease to fight disunion. The South could win
separation only at the price of practical annihilation for both.

The night was very raw and chill, and not less so now that morning
was approaching. The mists and fogs, which as usual rose from the
Rappahannock, made Harry shiver at their touch. In the hollows of the
ridges, which the wintry sun seldom reached, great masses of ice were
packed, and the plain below, cut up the day before by whe