believe it. You come."

"Arthur, what do you hear?" asked Harry.

"My people are well and they're sending me a lot of things. My mother
has put in the pack a brand new uniform. She sewed on the gold lace
herself. I hope the next battle won't be fought before it gets here."

"Impossible," said Harry gravely. "General Hooker is too polite a man
to push us before Lieutenant St. Clair receives his new clothes."

"I hope so," said St. Clair seriously.

The new uniform, in fact, came a few days later, and as it even exceeded
its promise, St. Clair was thoroughly happy. Harry also received a
second letter from Colonel Kenton, telling of the receipt of his own,
and wishing him equally good fortune in the new battle which they in the
west heard was impending in the east.

Harry believed they would surely close with Hooker soon. They had been
along the Rappahannock for many weeks now, and the winter of cold rain
had not yet broken up, but spring could not be far away. Meanwhile he
was drawn closer than ever to Jackson, his great commander, and was
almost constantly in his service.

It was, perhaps, the difference in their natures that made the
hero-worship in the boy so strong. Jackson was quiet, reserved and
deeply religious. Harry was impulsive, physically restless, and now and
then talkative, as the young almost always are. Jackson's impassive
face and the few words--but always to the point--that he spoke,
impressed him. In his opinion now Stonewall Jackson could do no wrong
nor make any mistake of judgment.

The months had not been unpleasant. The Southern army was recuperating
from great battles, and, used to farm or forest life, the soldiers
easily made shelter for themselves against the rain and mud. The
Southern pickets along the river also established good relations with
the pickets on the other side. Why not? They were of the same blood
and the same nation. There was no battle now, and what was the use of
sneaking around like an Indian, trying to kill somebody who was doing
you no harm? That was assassination, not war.

The officers winked at this borderline friendship. A Yankee picket in
a boat near the left shore could knot a newspaper into a tight wad and
throw it to the Johnny Reb picket in another boat near the right bank,
and there were strong-armed Johnny Reb pickets who could throw a hunk
of chewing tobacco all the way to the Yankee side. Already they were
sowing the seeds of a good