While he yet looked through the glasses he saw a plume of white smoke coming swiftly towards the Southern fires.  Then he remembered the two lines of railroad that met on the battlefield, giving it its other name, Manassas Junction, and he knew that the smoke came from an engine pulling cars loaded with supplies for their foes.

He whispered of the train as he handed the glasses back to Colonel Newcomb, and then the colonel and the generals alike made a long examination.

“Beauregard will certainly have an abundance of supplies,” said one of the generals.  “I hear that arms and provisions are coming by every train from the South, and meanwhile we are making no advance.”

“We can’t advance yet,” said the other general emphatically.  “McClellan is right in making elaborate preparations and long drills before moving upon the enemy.  It was inexperience, and not want of courage, that beat us at Bull Run.”

“The Southerners had the same inexperience.”

“But they had the defensive.  I hear that Tom Jackson saved them, and that they have given him the name Stonewall, because he stood so firm.  I was at West Point with him.  An odd, awkward fellow, but one of the hardest students I have ever known.  The boys laughed at him when he first came, but they soon stopped.  He had a funny way of studying, standing up with his book on a shelf, instead of sitting down at a desk.  Said his brain moved better that way.  I’ve heard that he walked part of the way from Virginia to reach West Point.  I hear now, too, that he is very religious, and always intends to pray before going into battle.”

“That’s a bad sign—­for us,” said the other general.  “It’s easy enough to sneer at praying men, but just you remember Cromwell.  I’m a little shaky on my history, but I’ve an impression that when Cromwell, the Ironsides, old Praise-God-Barebones, and the rest knelt, said a few words to their God, sang a little and advanced with their pikes, they went wherever they intended to go and that Prince Rupert and all the Cavaliers could not stop them.”

“It is so,” said the other gravely.  “A man who believes thoroughly in his God, who is not afraid to die, who, in fact, rather favors dying on the field, is an awful foe to meet in battle.”

“We may have some of the same on our side,” said Colonel Newcomb.  “We have at least a great Puritan population from which to draw.”

One of the generals gave the signal and the balloon was slowly pulled down.  Dick, grateful for his experience, thanked Colonel Newcomb and rejoined his comrades.

CHAPTER II

THE MOUNTAIN LIGHTS

When Dick left the balloon it was nearly night.  Hundreds of campfires lighted up the hills about him, but beyond their circle the darkness enclosed everything.  He still felt the sensations of one who had been at a great height and who had seen afar.  That rim of Southern campfires was yet in his mind, and he wondered why the Northern commander allowed them to remain week after week so near the capital.  He was fully aware, because it was common talk, that the army of the Union had now reached great numbers, with a magnificent equipment, and, with four to one, should be able to drive the Southern force away.  Yet McClellan delayed.