“Cheer up, Arthur,” said Langdon, “it could have been worse. The sharp stones there might have cut holes through them.”
But in spite of every difficulty and danger they went steadily toward the summit, and streamers of mist yet floating about the mountain often enclosed them in a damp shroud. Obviously, however, the clouds and vapors were thinning, and soon the last shred would float away.
“It ain’t more’n a hundred feet more to the top,” said Wallace, “an’ it’s shore that the sun will be shinin’ there.”
“Shining for us, of course,” said Langdon. “It’s a good omen.”
“I wish I could always look for the best as you do, Tom,” said St. Clair.
“I’m glad I can. Gay hearts are better than riches. As sure as I climb, Arthur, I see the top.”
“Yes, there it is, the nice snowy bump above us.”
They dragged themselves upon the loftiest crest, and, panting, stood there for a few minutes in several inches of snow. Then the wind caught up the last shreds and tatters of mist, and whipped them away southward. Every one of them drew a deep, sharp breath, as the great panorama of the valley to the northward and far below was unrolled before them.
The brilliant sunshine of early spring played over everything, but far down in the valley they seemed to see by contrast the true summer of the sunny south, which is often far from sunny. But seen from the top of the mountain the valley was full of golden rays. Now the roofs of the villages showed plainly and they saw with distinctness the long silver lines that marked the flowing of the rivers and creeks. To the east and to the west further than the eye could reach rose the long line of dim blue mountains that enclosed the valley.
But it was the glitter of the bayonets in the valley that caused the hearts of the Virginians to beat most fiercely. Banners and guidons, clusters of white tents, and dark swarms of men marked where the foot of the invading stranger trod their soil. The Virginians loved the great valley. Enclosed between the blue mountains it was the richest and most beautiful part of all their state. It hurt them terribly to see the overwhelming forces of the North occupying its towns and villages and encamped in its fields.
Harry, not a Virginian himself, but a brother by association, understood and shared their feeling. He saw Sherburne’s lips moving and he knew that he was saying hard words between his teeth. But Sherburne’s eyes were at the glasses, and he looked a long time, moving them slowly from side to side. After a while he handed them to Harry.
The boy raised the glasses and the great panorama of the valley sprang up to his eyes. It seemed to him that he could almost count the soldiers in the camps. There was a troop of cavalry riding to the southward, and further to the left was another. Directly to the north was their battlefield of Kernstown, and not far beyond it lay Winchester. He saw such masses of the enemy’s troops and so many signs of activity among them that he felt some movement must be impending.
“What do you think of it, Harry?” said Sherburne.
“Banks must be getting ready to move forward.”
“I think so, too. I wish we had his numbers.”
“More men are coming for us. We’ll have Ewell’s corps soon, and General Jackson himself is worth ten thousand men.”
“That’s so, Harry, but ten thousand men are far too few. McDowell’s whole corps is available, and with it the Yankees can now turn more than seventy thousand men into the valley.”
“And they can fight, too, as we saw at Kernstown,” said St. Clair.
“That’s so, and I’m thinking they’ll get their stomachs full of it pretty soon,” said Langdon. “Yesterday about dusk I went out in some bushes after firewood, and I saw a man kneeling. It struck me as curious, and I went up closer. What do you think? It was Old Jack praying. Not any mock prayer, but praying to his Lord with all his heart and soul. I’m not much on praying myself, but I felt pretty solemn then, and I slid away from there as quick and quiet as you please. And I tell you, fellows, that when Stonewall Jackson prays it’s time for the Yankees to weep.”