It was a neat little place, with many roads radiating from it as if it were the hub of a wheel, and the thrifty farmers of that region had made it a center for their schools.
Harry had learned from Jackson, and again from Lee, always to note well the ground wherever he might ride. Such knowledge in battle was invaluable, and his eyes dwelled long on Gettysburg.
He saw running south of the town a long high ridge, curving at the east and crowned with a cemetery, because of which the people of Gettysburg called it Cemetery Ridge or Hill. Opposed to it, some distance away and running westward, was another but lower ridge that they called Seminary Ridge. Beyond Seminary Ridge were other and yet lower ridges, between two of which flowed a brook called Willoughby Run. Beyond them all, two or three miles away and hemming in the valley, stretched South Mountain, the crests of which were still clothed in the mists and vapors of a sultry day. Near the town was a great field of ripening wheat, golden when the sun shone. Not far from the horsemen was another little stream called Plum Run. They also saw an unfinished railroad track, with a turnpike running beside it, the roof and cupola of a seminary, and beside the little marshy stream of Plum Run a mass of jagged, uplifted rocks, commonly called the Devil’s Den.
Harry knew none of these names yet, but he was destined to learn them in such a manner that he could never forget them again. Now he merely admired the peaceful and picturesque appearance of the town, set so snugly among its hills.
“That’s Gettysburg, which for us just at this moment is the shoe metropolis of the world,” said Dalton, “but I dare say we’ll not be welcomed as purchasers or in any other capacity.”
“You take a safe risk, George,” said Harry. “Tales that we are terrible persons, who rejoice most in arson and murder, evidently have been spread pretty thoroughly through this region.”
“Both sections scatter such stories. I suppose it’s done in every war. It’s only human nature.”
“All right, Mr. Pedantic Philosopher. Maybe you’re telling the truth. But look, I don’t think we’re going into Gettysburg in such a great hurry! Yankee soldiers are there before us!”
Other Southern officers had noted the blue uniforms and the flash of rifle barrels and bayonets in Gettysburg. As they used their glasses, the town came much nearer and the Union forces around it increased. Buford, coming up the night before, had surmised that a Southern force would advance on Gettysburg, and he had chosen the place for a battle. He had with him four thousand two hundred mounted men, and he posted them in the strong positions that were so numerous. He had waited there all night, and already his scouts had informed him that Pettigrew and Heth were advancing.
“Are we to lose our shoes?” whispered Harry.
“I don’t think so,” replied Dalton in an undertone. “We’re in strong force, and I don’t see any signs that our generals intend to turn back. Harry, your glasses are much stronger than mine. What do you see?”
“I see a lot. The Yankees must be four or five thousand, and they are posted strongly. They are thick in the railroad cut and hundreds of horses are held by men in the rear. It must be almost wholly a cavalry force.”
“Do you see any people in the town?”
“There is not a soul in the streets, and as far as I can make out all the doors are closed and the windows shuttered.”
“Then it’s a heavy force waiting for us. The people know it, and expecting a battle, they have gone away.”
“Your reasoning is good, and there’s the bugle to confirm it. Our lines are already advancing!”
It was still early in the morning, and the strong Southern force which had come for shoes, but which found rifles and bayonets awaiting them instead, advanced boldly. They, the victors of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, had no thought of retreating before a foe who invited them to combat.
Harry and Dalton found their hearts beating hard at this their first battle on Northern soil, and Harry’s eyes once more swept the great panorama of the valley, the silent town, the lofty stone hills, and far beyond the long blue wall of South Mountain, with the mists and vapors still floating about its crest.