“Do you think Hooker’s army can cross?” asked Dalton, looking at the black river.
“Of course it can. Remember that they have four hundred guns with which they can cover a passage. Didn’t Burnside build his bridges and force the crossing in our face, when we had twenty thousand more men than we have now, and the Union army had twenty thousand less? Their line is so long and they are so much superior in numbers that we can’t guard all the river. As I take it, Lee and Old Jack will not make any great opposition to the crossing, but there will be a thunderation of a time after it’s made.”
It was sunrise when they reached their own headquarters and entered the great mess tent, where some of the officers who had not gone to the ball were already eating breakfast. They said that the general had been awake more than two hours and that he was taking his breakfast, too, in the hunting lodge. He sent for various officers from time to time, and presently Harry’s turn came.
Jackson was sitting at a small table, upon which his breakfast had been laid. But all that had been cleared away long ago. He was reading in a small book when Harry entered, a book that the youth knew well. It was a copy of Napoleon’s Maxims, which Jackson invariably carried with him and read often. But he closed it quickly and put it in his pocket. During the long rest Jackson’s face had become somewhat fuller, but the blue eyes under the heavy brows were as deep and thoughtful as ever. He nodded to Harry and said:
“You were present when General Stuart received the message that the enemy was advancing? Was anything more ascertained at the time? Did any other messenger come?”
“No, sir. General Stuart mounted and rode at once. I remained at the ball until its close. No other messenger came there for him. Of that I am sure.”
“Very well, very well,” said Jackson to himself, rather than to the young lieutenant. “One message was enough. Stuart has acted promptly, as he always does. You, Mr. Kenton, I judge have been up all night dancing?”
“Most all of it, sir.”
“We must get ready now for another and less pleasant kind of dancing. But nothing will happen to-day. You’d better sleep. If you are needed you will be called.”
Harry saluted and withdrew. At the door he glanced back. Jackson had taken out Napoleon’s Maxims and was reading the volume again. The brow was seamed with thought, but his countenance was grave and steady. Harry never forgot any look or act of his great chief in those days when the shadow of Chancellorsville was hovering near.
A dozen officers were in the mess tent, and they talked earnestly of various things, but Harry, unheeding their voices, lay down in a corner without taking off his clothes and went quietly to sleep. Many came into the tent or went out of it in the course of the morning, but none of them disturbed him. A man in the army slept when he could, and there was none wicked enough to awaken him until the right time for it.
He slept heavily nearly all through the day, and shortly after he awoke Sherburne and two other officers, their horses splashed with mud, rode up to the hunting lodge. Jackson was standing in the door, and with a rising inflection he uttered one word:
“Well?”
“It’s true, General,” said Sherburne. “The enemy is advancing in heavy force toward Kelly’s Ford. We saw them with our own eyes. General Stuart asked me to tell you this. He did not come himself, because, as well as we can ascertain, General Hooker has separated his army into two or three great divisions and they are seeking the crossing at different fords or ferries.”
“As I thought,” said Jackson. “It’s the advantage given them by their great numbers and powerful artillery. Ride back to General Stuart, Captain, and tell him that I thank him, and you, too, for your diligence.”
Sherburne, flushing deep with gratification, took off his cap and bowed. But he knew too well to waste any time in words.