they had formed it, it must be
good. It was a long ride under the moon and stars. There was but
little talk along the lines. The noises were those of marching feet and
not of men's voices. All the troops felt the mystery and solemnity of
the night and the deep import of their unknown mission.

The dawn found them still marching, but that dawn was again heavy with
the fogs and mists that rose from the broad river. The three Northern
balloons could see nothing. The signalmen were of no avail. The clouds
of vapor rolled over the ruins of Fredericksburg and along the hills
south of the river. Neither Sedgwick and his men nor any of the Union
officers on the other shore knew that Jackson had gone, leaving only a
rear guard behind. Before the fog had cleared away Jackson with his
fighting generals had joined Anderson and they were forming a powerful
line of battle near Chancellorsville and facing Hooker.

Harry now heard much of this name Chancellorsville, destined to become
so famous, and he said it over and over again to himself. And yet it
was not a town, nor even a village. Here stood a large house, with the
usual pillared porticoes, built long since by the Chancellor family and
inhabited by them in their generation, but now turned into a country
inn. Yet it had importance. Roads ran from it in various directions
and in territories very unlike, including the strange and weird region
known as the Wilderness.

Hooker had come through the Wilderness with his main force, and was now
forming a line of battle in front of it in the open country, when for
some reason never fully known he fell back on Chancellorsville and began
to concentrate his army in the edge of the Wilderness.

Harry, riding with Dalton and some others to inspect the enemy's front
through their glasses, saw this gloomy forest, destined to such a
terrible fame not alone from the coming battle, but from others as
great. Nature could have chosen no more fitting spot for the mighty
sacrifice to save the Union, because here everything is dark, solemn
and desolate.

For twenty miles one way and fifteen the other the Wilderness stretched
its somber expanse. The ancient forest had been cut away long since and
the thin, light soil had produced a sea of scrub and thickets in its
place, in which most of the houses were the huts of charcoal burners.
The undergrowth and jungle were often impenetrable, save by some lone
hunter or wild animal. The gnar