Harry was in great fear for his general.  It seemed as if the Northern gunners had recognized him and his staff.  Perhaps they knew his famous war horse, Traveler, as he rode slowly away, but in any event, the shells began to strike on all sides of the little group.  One burst just behind Lee.  Another killed the horse of an officer close to him, and the bursting fragments inflicted slight wounds upon members of the staff.  Lee, for the first time, showed emotion.  Looking back over his shoulder his eyes blazed, and his cheeks flushed.  Harry knew that he wished to turn and order a charge, but there was nothing with which to charge, and, withdrawing his gaze from the threatening artillery, he rode steadily on.

The general’s destination now was an earthwork in the suburbs of the city, manned by a reserve force, small but ardent and defiant.  It welcomed Lee and his staff with resounding cheers, and Harry’s heart sprang up again.  Here, at least, was confidence, and as they rode behind them the guns replied fiercely to the advancing Northern batteries, checking them for a little while, and giving the retreating troops a chance to rest.

Now came a lull in the fighting, but Harry knew well that it was only a lull.  Presently Grant and Sheridan would press harder than ever.  They were fully aware of the condition of the Southern army, its smallness and exhaustion, and they would never cease to hurl upon it their columns of cavalry and infantry, and to rake it with the numerous batteries of great guns, served so well.  Once more his heart sank low, as he thought of what the next night might bring forth.  He knew that General Lee had sent in the morning a messenger to the capital with the statement that Petersburg could be held no longer and that he would retreat in the night.

Every effort was made to gather the remaining portion of the Southern army into one strong, cohesive body.  Longstreet, at the order of Lee, left his position north of the James River, while Gordon took charge of the lines to the east of Petersburg.  It was when they gathered for this last stand that Harry realized fully how many of the great Confederate officers were gone.  It was here that he first heard of the death of A. P. Hill, of whom he had seen so much at Gettysburg.  And he choked as he thought of Stonewall Jackson, Jeb Stuart, Turner Ashby and all the long roll of the illustrious fallen, who were heroes to him.

The Northern infantry and cavalry did not charge now, but the cannon continued their work.  Battery after battery poured its fire upon the earthworks, although the men there, sheltered by the trenches, did not suffer so much for the present.

Harry found time to look up his friends, and discovered the Invincibles in a single trench, about sixty of them left, but all showing a cheerfulness, extraordinary in such a situation.  It was characteristic of both Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire that they should present a bolder front, the more desperate their case.  Nor were the younger officers less assured.  Captain Arthur St. Clair was carefully dusting from his clothing dirt that had been thrown there by bursting shells, and Lieutenant Thomas Langdon was contemplating with satisfaction the track of a bullet that had gone through his left sleeve without touching the arm.