Harry rode to Sherburne with a message of congratulation from General Lee, who told him that he had selected the possible crossing well, and that he had shown great skill and valor in holding it until the army came up.  Sherburne’s flush of pride showed under his deep tan.

“I did my best,” he said to Harry, who knew the contents of the letter, “and that’s all any of us can do.”

“But General Lee has a way of inspiring us to do our best.”

“It’s so, and it’s one of the reasons why he’s such a great general.  Watch those bridge builders work, Harry!  They’re certainly putting their souls and strength into it.”

“And they have need to do so.  The scouts say that the Army of the Potomac will be before us to-morrow.  Don’t you think the river has fallen somewhat, Colonel?”

“A little but look at those clouds over there, Harry.  As surely as we sit here it’s going to rain.  The rivers were low that we might cross them on our march into the North, just smoothing our way to Gettysburg, and now that Gettysburg has happened they’re high so we can’t get back to the South.  It looks as if luck were against us.”

“But luck has a habit of changing.”

Harry rode back to headquarters, whence he was sent with another dispatch, to Colonel Talbot, whom he found posted well in advance with the Invincibles.

“This note,” said the colonel, “bids us to watch thoroughly.  General Meade and his army are expected on our front in the morning, and there must be no chance for a surprise in the night, say a dash by their cavalry which would cut up our rear guard or vanguard—­upon my soul I don’t know which to call it.  Harry, as you can see by the note itself, you’re to remain with us until about midnight, and then make a full report of all that you and I and the rest of us may have observed upon this portion of the front or rear, whichever it may be.  Meanwhile we share with you our humble rations.”

Harry was pleased.  He was always glad when chance or purpose brought him again into the company of the Invincibles.  St. Clair and Langdon were his oldest comrades of the war, and they were like brothers to him.  His affection for the two colonels was genuine and deep.  If the two lads were like brothers to him, the colonels were like uncles.

“Is the Northern vanguard anywhere near?” asked Harry.

“Skirmishing is going on only four or five miles away,” replied Colonel Leonidas Talbot.  “It is likely that the sharp shooters will be picking off one another all through the night, but it will not disturb us.  That is a great curse of war.  It hardens one so for the time being.  I’m a soldier, and I’ve been one all my life, and I suppose soldiers are necessary, but I can’t get over this feeling.  Isn’t it the same way with you, Hector?”

“Exactly the same, Leonidas,” replied Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.  “You and I fought together in Mexico, Leonidas, then on the plains, and now in this gigantic struggle, but under whatever guise and, wherever it may be, I find its visage always hideous.  I don’t think we soldiers are to blame.  We don’t make the wars although we have to fight ’em.”