“You’re talking sound sense, Harry,” said Happy Tom, an unexpected ally. “I’ve several objections to this duel myself. We’ll need both of these men for the great battle with Hooker. Arthur would be sure to wear his new uniform, and a bullet hole through it would go far toward spoiling it. Besides, there’s nothing to fight about. And if they did fight, I’d hate to see the survivor standing up before one of Old Jack’s firing squads and then falling before it. You go to General Jackson, Harry, and I’ll go along with you, seconding every word you say. Shut up, Arthur; if you open your mouth again I’ll roll you and your new uniform in the mud down there. You know I can do it.”
“But such conduct would be unparalleled,” said Bertrand.
“I don’t care a whoop if it is,” said Harry, who had been taught by his father to look upon the duel as a wicked proceeding. “General Jackson wouldn’t tolerate such a thing, and in his command what he says is the Ten Commandments. Isn’t that so, Dalton?”
“Undoubtedly, and you can depend upon me as a third to you and Happy Tom.”
“Now, Captain,” continued Harry soothingly, “just forget this, won’t you? Both of you are from South Carolina and you ought to be good friends.”
“So far as I’m concerned, it’s finished,” said St. Clair.
But Bertrand turned upon his heel without a word and walked away.
“Hey, there, you Johnnies!” came a loud hail from the other side of the river. “What’s the matter with your friend who’s just gone away? I was watching with glasses, and he didn’t look happy.”
“He had a nightmare and he hasn’t fully recovered from it yet.”
There was a sudden tremendous burst of cheering behind them.
“On your feet, boys!” exclaimed Happy Tom, glancing back. “Here comes Old Jack on one of his tours of inspection.”
Jackson was riding slowly along near the edge of the river. He could never appear without rolling cheers from the thirty thousand veteran troops who were eager to follow wherever he led. The mighty cheering swept back and forth in volumes, and when a lull came, one among their friends, the Yankee pickets on the other side of the river, called at the top of his voice:
“Hey, Johnnies, what’s the racket about?”
“It’s Stonewall Jackson!” Harry roared back, pointing to the figure on the horse.
Then, to the amazement of all, a sudden burst of cheering came from the far bank of the Rappahannock, followed by the words, shouted in chorus: “Hurrah for Stonewall Jackson! Hurrah for Jackson!” Thus did the gallant Northern troops show their admiration for their great enemy whose genius had defeated them so often. Some riflemen among them lying among the bushes at the water’s edge might have picked him off, but no such thought entered the mind of anyone.
Jackson flushed at the compliment from the foe, but rode quietly on, until he disappeared among some woods on the left.
“We’d better be going back to headquarters,” said Harry to Dalton. “It’ll be wise for us to be there when the general arrives.”
“That’s right, lazy little boys,” said Happy Tom. “Wash your faces, run to school, and be all bright and clean when teacher comes.”
“It’s what we mean to do,” said Harry, “and if Arthur says anything more about this silly dueling business, send for us. We’ll come back, and we three together will pound his foolish head so hard that he won’t be able to think about anything at all for a year to come.”
“I’ll behave,” said St. Clair, “but you fellows look to Bertrand.”
Dalton and Harry walked to the headquarters of their general, who now occupied what had been a hunting lodge standing in the grounds of a large mansion. The whole place, the property of an orderly in his service, had been offered to him, but he would only take the hunting lodge, saying that he would not clutter up so fine and large a house.
Now Harry and Dalton walked across the lawn, which was beginning to turn green, and paused for a little while under the budding boughs of the great trees. The general had not yet arrived, but the rolling cheers never ceasing, but coming nearer, indicated that he would soon be at hand.