“So do I, but we’ve got to get actual evidence in words, or we’ve got to see this army. I’m afraid to go back to General Jackson with anything less. Now, we won’t have time to go through the Gap, see the army and get back to the general before things begin to happen, so we’ve got to stick it out here, until we get what we want.”
“True words, Harry, and we must risk going a little nearer. See that line of bushes running along there in the dark? It will cover us, and we’re bound to take the chance. We must agree, too, Harry, that if we’re discovered, neither must stop in an attempt to save the other. If one reaches Jackson it will be all right.”
“Of course, George. We’ll run for it with all our might, and if it’s only one it’s to be the better runner.”
They lay almost flat on their stomachs, and passing through the grass, reached the line of bushes. Here they could rise from such an uncomfortable position, and stooping they came within fifty yards of the first fire, where they saw very clearly the men who were not asleep, and who yet moved about. Most of them were not yet sunburned, and Harry judged at once that they had come from the mills and workshops of New York or New England. As far as he could see they had no pickets, and he inferred their belief that no enemy was nearer than Jackson’s army, at least thirty miles away. Perhaps the little band of horsemen who had knocked at Mrs. Pomeroy’s door had brought them the information.
They lay there nearly an hour, not thinking of the danger, but consumed with impatience. Officers passed near them talking, but they could catch only scraps, not enough for their purpose. A set of signals was sent up again and was answered duly from the same point to the east of the Gap. But after long waiting, they were rewarded. Few of the officers or men ever went far from the fires. They seemed to be at a loss in the dark and silent wilderness which was absolute confirmation to Harry that they were city dwellers.
Two officers, captains or majors, stopped within twenty feet of the crouching scouts, and gazed for a long time through the Gap toward the west into the valley, at the northern end of which Jackson and his army lay.
“I tell you, Curtis,” one of them said at last, “that if we get through the Gap to-morrow and Fremont and the others also come up, Jackson can’t possibly get away. We’ll have him and his whole force in a trap and with three or four to one in our favor, it will be all over.”
“It’s true, if it comes out as you say, Penfield,” said the other, “but there are several ‘ifs,’ and as we have reason to know, it’s hard to put your hand on Jackson. Why, when we thought he was lost in the mountains he came out of them like an avalanche, and some of our best troops were buried under that avalanche.”
“You’re too much of a pessimist, Curtis. We’ve learned a lot in the last few days. As sure as you and I stand here the fox will be trapped. Why, he’s trapped already. We’ll be through the Gap here with ten thousand men in the morning, squarely in Jackson’s rear. To-morrow we’ll have fifty or sixty thousand good troops between him and Richmond and Johnston. His army will be taken or destroyed, and the Confederacy will be split asunder. McClellan will be in Richmond with an overwhelming force, and within a month the war will be practically over.”
“There’s no doubt of that, if we catch Jackson, and it certainly looks as if the trap were closing down upon him. In defeating Banks and then following him to the Potomac he has ruined himself and his cause.”
Harry felt a deadly fear gripping at his heart. What these men were saying was probably true. Every fact supported their claim. The tough and enduring North, ready to sustain any number of defeats and yet win, was pouring forward her troops with a devotion that would have wrung tears from a stone. And she was destined to do it again and again through dark and weary years.