“At any rate,” said Happy Tom, with his customary boldness and frankness, “we’re bound to admit that the Yankees beat us at making money.”

“Which may be more to our credit than theirs,” said Colonel Talbot, with dignity.  “I have found it more conducive to integrity and a lofty mind to serve as an officer at a modest salary in the army rather than to gain riches in trade.”

“But somebody has to pay the army, sir.”

“Thomas, I regret to tell you that inquiry can be pushed to the point of vulgarity.  I have been content with things as they were, and so should you be.  Ah, there are our brave boys singing that noble battle song of the South!  Listen how it swells!  It shows a spirit unconquerable!”

Along the great battle front swelled the mighty chorus: 

      “Come brothers!  Rally for the right! 
       The bravest of the brave
       Sends forth her ringing battle cry
       Beside the Atlantic wave! 
       She leads the way in honor’s path;
       Come brothers, near and far,
       Come rally round the bonnie blue flag
          That bears a single star.”

“A fine song!  A fine song most truly,” said Colonel Talbot.  “It heartens one gloriously!”

But Harry, usually so quick to respond, strangely enough felt depression.  He felt suddenly in all its truth that they had not only failed in their invasion, but the escape of the army was yet a matter of great doubt.  The mood was only momentary, however, and he joined with all his heart as the mighty chorus rolled out another verse: 

      “Now Georgia marches to the front
       And beside her come
       Her sisters by the Mexique sea
       With pealing trump and drum,
       Till answering back from hill and glen
       The rallying cry afar,
       A Nation hoists the bonnie blue flag
          That bears a single star!”

They sang it all through, and over again, and then, after a little silence, came the notes of a trumpet from a far-distant point.  It was played by powerful lungs and the wind was blowing their way but they heard it distinctly.  It was a quaint syncopated tune, but not one of the Invincibles had any doubt that it came from some daring detachment of the Union Army.  The notes with their odd lilt seemed to swell through the forest, but it was strange to both of the colonels.

“Do any of you know it?” asked Colonel Talbot.

All shook their heads except Harry.

“What is it, Harry?” asked Talbot.

“It’s a famous poem, sir, the music of which has not often been heard, but I can translate from music into words the verse that has just been played: 

      “In their ragged regimentals
       Stood the old Continentals
          Yielding not,
       When the grenadiers were lunging
       And like hail fell the plunging
          Cannon shot;