Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire were standing erect, staring at each other. The chessmen were scattered on the floor and the board was split in half. A fragment of the exploding shell had entered the window and passing directly between them had done the damage. The same piece had gone entirely through the opposite wall.
Harry’s quick glance told him that nothing had suffered except the chessboard. He sprang forward, picked up the two halves, and said:
“No real harm has been done. Two strips underneath, a few tacks, and it’s as good again as ever.”
The other lads carefully gathered up the scattered chessmen and announced that not one of them was injured.
“Thank you, boys,” said Colonel Talbot. “It is a pleasing thing to see that, despite the war, the young still show courtesy to their elders. You will bear in mind, Hector, when this game is resumed at a proper time and place, that the position of one of your knights was very delicate.”
“Assuredly I will not forget it, Leonidas. It will be no trouble to either of us to replace them exactly as they were at a moment’s notice.”
Harry and Dalton were compelled now to return to General Jackson, and they did so, after leaving many thanks with their generous hosts. Heavy winter rains began. The country on both sides of the Rappahannock became a vast sea of mud, and the soldiers had to struggle against all the elements, because the rains were icy and the mud formed a crust through which they broke in the morning.
While they lingered here news came of the great battle in the West, fought on the last day of the old year and the first day of the new, along the banks of Stone River. Harry and his comrades looked for a triumph there like that which they had won, and they were deeply disappointed when they heard the result.
Harry had a copy of a Richmond paper and he was reading from it to an attentive circle, but he stopped to comment:
“Ours was the smaller army, but we drove them back and held a part of the field. Two or three days later we withdrew to Chattanooga. Well, I don’t call it much of a victory to thump your enemy and then go away, leaving him in possession of the field.”
“But the enemy was a third more numerous than we were,” said Happy Tom, “and since it looks like a draw, so far as the fighting was concerned, we, being the smaller, get the honors.”
“That’s just the trouble,” said Dalton gravely. “We are loaded down with honors. Look at the great victories we’ve won in the East! Has anything solid come of them? Here is the enemy on Virginia soil, just as he was before. We’ve given the Army of the Potomac a terrible thrashing at Fredericksburg, but there it is on the other side of the Rappahannock, just as strong as ever, and maybe stronger, because they say recruits are pouring into it.”
“Stop! Stop, Dalton!” said Happy Tom. “We don’t want any lecture from you. We’re just having a conversation.”
“All right,” said Dalton, laughing, “but I gave you my opinion.”
Days of comparative idleness followed. The Army of the Potomac moved farther up the river and settled itself around the village of Falmouth. The Army of Northern Virginia faced it, and along the hillsides the young Southern soldiers erected sign posts, on the boards of which were painted, in letters large enough for the Union glasses to see, the derisive words:
THIS WAY TO RICHMOND