“I thank you,” said Harry very earnestly, “and I’m truly sorry, Mr. Shepard, that you and I are on different sides.”

“I suppose it’s too late for you to come over to the Union and the true cause.”

Harry laughed.

“You know, Mr. Shepard, there are no traitors in this war.”

“I know it.  I was merely jesting.”

He slipped into the underbrush and disappeared.  Harry confessed to himself once more that he liked Shepard, but he felt more strongly than ever that it had become a personal duel between them, and they would meet yet again in violence.

That night he had little to do.  It was a typical May night in Virginia, clear and beautiful with an air that would have been a tonic to the nerves, had it not been for the bitter smoke and odors that yet lingered from the battle of the Wilderness.

Before dawn the scouts brought in a rumor that there was a heavy movement of Federal troops, although they did not know its meaning.  It might portend another flank march by Grant, but a mist that had begun to rise after midnight hid much from them.  The mist deepened into a fog, which made it harder for the Southern leaders to learn the meaning of the Northern movement.

Just as the dawn was beginning to show a little through the fog, Hancock and Burnside, with many more generals, led a tremendous attack upon the Southern right center.  They had come so silently through the thickets that for once the Southern leaders were surprised.  The Union veterans, rushing forward in dense columns, stormed and took the breastworks with the bayonet.

Many of the Southern troops, sound asleep, awoke to find themselves in the enemy’s hands.  Others, having no time to fire them, fought with clubbed rifles.

Harry, dozing, was awakened by the terrific uproar.  Even before the dawn had fairly come the battle was raging on a long front.  The center of Lee’s army was broken, and the Union troops were pouring into the gap.  Grant had already taken many guns and thousands of prisoners, and the bulldog of Shiloh and Vicksburg and Chattanooga was hurrying fresh divisions into the combat to extend and insure his victory.  Through the forests swelled the deep Northern cry of triumph.

Harry had never before seen the Southern army in such danger, and he looked at General Lee, who had now mounted Traveller.  The turmoil and confusion in front of them was frightful and indescribable.  The Union troops had occupied an entire Confederate salient, and their generals, feeling that the moment was theirs, led them on, reckless of life, and swept everything before them.

Harry never took his eyes from Lee.  The rising sun shot golden beams through the smoke and disclosed him clearly.  His face was calm and his voice did not shake as he issued his orders with rapidity and precision.  The lion at bay was never more the lion.

A new line of battle was formed, and the fugitives formed up with it.  Then the Southern troops, uttering once more the fierce rebel yell, charged directly upon their enemy and under the eye of the great chief whom they almost worshiped.