It was involuntary, but Dick gave his deepest military salute, and said in a tone of mingled admiration and respect: 

“General Johnston, I thank you.”

The commander-in-chief of the Southern army bowed courteously in return, and Dick, following his uncle, left the ravine.

The six generals returned to their council, and the boy who would not answer was quickly forgotten.  Long they debated the morrow.  Several have left accounts of what occurred.  Johnston, although he had laid the remarkable ambush, and was expecting victory, was grave, even gloomy.  But Beauregard, volatile and sanguine, rejoiced.  For him the triumph was won already.  After their great achievement in placing their army, unseen and unknown, within cannon shot of the Union force, failure was to him impossible.

Breckinridge, like his chief, Johnston, was also grave and did not say much.  Hardee, as became one of his severe military training, discussed the details, the placing of the brigades and the time of attack by each.  Polk, the bishop-general, and Bragg, also had their part.

As they talked in low tones they moved the men over their chessboard.  Now and then an aide was summoned, and soon departed swiftly and in silence to move a battery or a regiment a little closer to the Union lines, but always he carried the injunction that no noise be made.  Not a sound that could be heard three hundred yards away came from all that great army, lying there in the deep woods and poised for its spring.

Meanwhile security reigned in the Union camp.  The farm lads of the west and northwest had talked much over their fires.  They had eaten good suppers, and by and by they fell asleep.  But many of the officers still sat by the coals and discussed the march against the Southern army at Corinth, when the men of Buell should join those of Grant.  The pickets, although the gaps yet remained between those of the different brigades, walked back and forth and wondered at the gloom and intensity of the woods in front of them, but did not dream of that which lay in the heart of the darkness.

The Southern generals in the ravine lingered yet a little longer.  A diagram had been drawn upon a piece of paper.  It showed the position of every Southern brigade, regiment, and battery, and of every Northern division, too.  It showed every curve of the Tennessee, the winding lines of the three creeks, Owl, Lick, and Snake, and the hills and marshes.

The last detail of the plan was agreed upon finally, and they made it very simple, lest their brigades and regiments should lose touch and become confused in the great forest.  They were to attack continually by the right, press the Union army toward the right always, in order to rush in and separate it from Pittsburg Landing on the Tennessee, and from the fleet and its stores.  Then they meant to drive it into the marshes enclosed by the river and Snake Creek and destroy it.