fight in a fog!"

He seemed a person having authority, and the people immediately about
him appealed for information. He looked through the glass and gave it,
and was good, too, about lending the glass. "It's A. P. Hill, I'm
sure--with Longstreet to support him. It's A. P. Hill's brigades that
are moving into the smoke. Most of that firing is from our batteries
along the Chickahominy. We are going undoubtedly to cross to the north
bank--Yes. McClellan's right wing--Fitz John Porter--A good soldier--Oh,
he'll have about twenty-five thousand men."

A boy, breathing excitement from top to toe, sent up a shrill voice.
"Isn't Jackson coming, sir? Aren't they looking for Jackson?"

The soldier who had drunk the milk was discovered by Miriam and
Christianna, near their tree. He gave his voice. "Surely! He'll have
come down from Ashland and A. P. Hill is crossing here. That's an army
north, and a big lot of troops south, and Fitz John Porter is between
like a nut in a nut cracker. The cracker has only to work all right, and
crush goes the filbert!" He raised himself and peered under puckered
brows at the smoke-draped horizon. "Yes, he's surely over
there--Stonewall.--Going to flank Fitz John Porter--Then we'll hear a
hell of a fuss."

"There's a battery galloping to the front," said the man with the glass.
"Look, one of you! Wipe the glass; it gets misty. If it's the Purcell,
I've got two sons--"

The soldier took the glass, turning it deftly with one hand. "Yes, think
it is the Purcell. Don't you worry, sir! They're all right. Artillerymen
are hard to kill--That's Pender's brigade going now--"

Christianna clutched Miriam. "Look! look! Oh, what is it?"

It soared into the blue, above the smoke. The sunlight struck it and it
became a beautiful iridescent bubble, large as the moon. "Oh, oh!" cried
the boy. "Look at the balloon!"

The hillside kept silence for a moment while it gazed, then--"Is it
ours?--No; it is theirs!--It is going up from the hill behind Beaver Dam
Creek.--Oh, it is lovely!--Lovely! No, no, it is horrible!--Look, look!
there is another!"

A young man, a mechanic, with sleeves rolled up, began to expatiate on
"ours." "We haven't got but one--it was made in Savannah by Dr. Langon
Cheves. Maybe they'll send it up to-day, maybe not. I've seen it. It's
like Joseph's coat in the Bible. They say the ladies gave their silk
dresses for it. Here'll be a strip of purple and here one of white with
roses on it,