The attitude of the Northern soldier changed instantly.  He drew himself up with cold dignity.  Plainly he felt that he had the honor of his army to sustain.

“Our left wing was never turned, sir!” he exclaimed with dignity.

Langdon stared at him with amazement.  This was a point of view the Confederate had never heard before.

“Never turned!” he gasped.  “Don’t tell me that!  I was there, and, besides, I’ve fought this battle on an average of twice a week ever since ’65 down in Mississippi, and in all these years I never heard such a foolish statement.”

“What rank were you, sir?” asked the Union soldier, haughtily.

“I was a captain that morning,” confessed the Southerner.

His old enemy smiled with superiority.

“As a colonel I’ve probably got more accurate information,” he said.

“I was a colonel that evening,” came the dry retort.

“But in an inferior army.  We licked you, sir!” cried Stoneman, hotly.

The Mississippian drew himself up with all the dignity common to the old Confederate soldier explaining the war.

“The South was never whipped, sir.  We honorably surrendered, sir.  We surrendered to save the country, sir, but we were never whipped.”

“Did you not run at Kenyon Hill?” taunted Stoneman.

Langdon brought down his fist in the palm of the other hand violently.

“Yes, sir; we ran at you.  I ought to remember.  I got my wound there.  You remember that long lane—­” He pulled off his hat and threw it on the floor, indicating it with one hand—­“Here was the Second Alabama.”

The hat of the old Federal dropped on the floor opposite the hat of the Confederate.

“And here the Eighth Illinois,” exclaimed Stoneman.

Langdon excitedly seized a diminutive bellboy passing by and planted him alongside his hat.

“Stay there a moment, sonny,” he cried.  “You are the Fourth Virginia.”

The newspaper Stoneman was carrying came down opposite the startled bellboy, who was trying not to appear frightened.

“This is the clump of cedars,” he exclaimed.

Both, in their eagerness, were bending down over their improvised battle plan, their heads close together.

“And here a farmhouse beside your cedars,” cried Langdon.

“That’s where the rebels charged us,” echoed the Union man.

Langdon brought down his fist again with emphatic gesture.

“You bet we charged you!  The Third Mississippi charged you!  I charged you, sir!”

Stoneman nodded.

“I remember a young fool of a Johnnie reb dashing up the hill fifty yards ahead of his men, waving his sword and yelling like a wild Indian.”

The Southerner straightened up.

“Well, where in thunderation would you expect me to be, sir?” he exclaimed.  “Behind them?  I got my wound there.  Laid me up for three months; like to have killed me.”