need both of these
men for the great battle with Hooker. Arthur would be sure to wear his
new uniform, and a bullet hole through it would go far toward spoiling
it. Besides, there's nothing to fight about. And if they did fight,
I'd hate to see the survivor standing up before one of Old Jack's firing
squads and then falling before it. You go to General Jackson, Harry,
and I'll go along with you, seconding every word you say. Shut up,
Arthur; if you open your mouth again I'll roll you and your new uniform
in the mud down there. You know I can do it."

"But such conduct would be unparalleled," said Bertrand.

"I don't care a whoop if it is," said Harry, who had been taught by his
father to look upon the duel as a wicked proceeding. "General Jackson
wouldn't tolerate such a thing, and in his command what he says is the
Ten Commandments. Isn't that so, Dalton?"

"Undoubtedly, and you can depend upon me as a third to you and Happy
Tom."

"Now, Captain," continued Harry soothingly, "just forget this, won't
you? Both of you are from South Carolina and you ought to be good
friends."

"So far as I'm concerned, it's finished," said St. Clair.

But Bertrand turned upon his heel without a word and walked away.

"Hey, there, you Johnnies!" came a loud hail from the other side of
the river. "What's the matter with your friend who's just gone away?
I was watching with glasses, and he didn't look happy."

"He had a nightmare and he hasn't fully recovered from it yet."

There was a sudden tremendous burst of cheering behind them.

"On your feet, boys!" exclaimed Happy Tom, glancing back. "Here comes
Old Jack on one of his tours of inspection."

Jackson was riding slowly along near the edge of the river. He could
never appear without rolling cheers from the thirty thousand veteran
troops who were eager to follow wherever he led. The mighty cheering
swept back and forth in volumes, and when a lull came, one among their
friends, the Yankee pickets on the other side of the river, called at
the top of his voice:

"Hey, Johnnies, what's the racket about?"

"It's Stonewall Jackson!" Harry roared back, pointing to the figure on
the horse.

Then, to the amazement of all, a sudden burst of cheering came from the
far bank of the Rappahannock, followed by the words, shouted in chorus:
"Hurrah for Stonewall Jackson! Hurrah for Jackson!" Thus did the
gallant Northern troops show their admiration for their great enemy