Harry had felt no hope for him, and now
that premonition was coming true.

They learned that he was in the Chandler House at a little place called
Guiney's Station, and they rode briskly toward it. They passed many
troops in camp, resting after their tremendous exertions, many of whom
knew them to be officers of Jackson's staff. They were besieged by
these. Young soldiers fairly clung to their horses and demanded news
of Jackson, who, they had heard, was dying. Harry and Dalton returned
replies as hopeful as they could make them, but their faces belied their
word. Gloom hung over the Southern army which had just won its most
brilliant victory.

Harry and Dalton found the same gloom at the Chandler House. The
officers who were there welcomed them in subdued tones, and in the house
everybody moved silently. The general's wife and little daughter had
just arrived from Richmond, and they were with him. But after a while
the two young lieutenants were admitted. Jackson spoke a few words to
both, as they bent beside his bed, and commended them as brave soldiers.
Harry knew now, when he looked at the thin face and the figure scarcely
able to move, that the great Jackson was going.

They went out oppressed by grief, and sought the Invincibles, whom they
at last found encamped in an old orchard. Colonel Talbot and
Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire sat beneath an apple tree, and the
chessboard was between them.

"They've been sitting there an hour," whispered Langdon, "but they
haven't made a single move, nor will they make one if they stay there
all day. It's in my mind that neither of them sees the chessmen.
Instead they see the General--they visited him this morning."

Harry did not speak to the two colonels, but turned away.

"We found the body of Bertrand yesterday," said Langdon, "and buried it
just where he fell."

"I'm glad of that," said Harry.

Harry and Dalton lingered at the Chandler House with the staff to which
they belonged. Three days passed and Sunday came. Jackson was sinking
all the while, and that morning the doctor informed his wife that he was
about to die. Pneumonia had followed the weakness from his wounds and
his breathing had grown very faint. Mrs. Jackson herself told him that
all hope for him was gone, and he heard the words with resignation.

After a while, as Harry learned, his mind began to wander. He spoke in
disjointed sentences of the army, of his battles, of his boyhood a