Dick carried the news to Pennington who danced with delight.
 
“We've got 'em! we've got 'em!” he cried over and over again.
 
“So we have,” said Dick, “we'll be marching in a half hour and then the trap will shut down so tight on Robert Lee that he'll never raise the lid again.”
 
It was nearly noon, and they expected every moment the order to start, but it did not come. Dick began to be tormented by an astonished impatience, and he saw that Colonel Winchester suffered in the same way. The army showed no signs of moving. Was it possible that McClellan would not advance at once on Lee, whom the scouts had now located definitely? The hot afternoon hours grew long as they passed one by one, and many a brave man ate his heart out with anger at the delay. Dick saw Sergeant Whitley walking up and down, and he was eager to hear his opinion.
 
“What is it, sergeant?” he asked. “Why do we sit here, twiddling our thumbs when there is an army waiting to be taken by us?”
 
“You're a commissioned officer, sir, and I'm only a private.”
 
“Never mind about that. You're a veteran of many years and many fights, and I know but little. Why do we sit still in the dust and fail to take the great prize that's offered to us?”
 
“The men of an army, sir, do the fighting, but its generals are its brains. It is for the brains to judge, to see and to command. The generals cannot win without the men, and the men cannot win without the generals. Now, in this case, sir, you can see—”
 
He stopped and shrugged his shoulders, as if it were not for him to say any more.
 
“I see,” said Dick bitterly. “You needn't say it, sergeant, but I'll say it for you. General McClellan has been overcome by caution again, and he sees two Johnnies where but one stands.”
 
Sergeant Whitley shrugged his shoulders again, but said nothing. Dick was about to turn away, when he saw a tall, thin figure approaching.
 
“Mr. Warner,” said Sergeant Whitley.
 
“So it is,” exclaimed Dick. “It's really good old George come to help us!”
 
He rushed forward and shook hands with Warner who although thin and pale was as cool and apparently almost as strong as ever.
 
“Here I am, Dick,” he said, “and the great battle hasn't been fought. I knew they couldn't fight it without me. The hospital at Washington dismissed me in disgrace because I got well so fast. 'What's the use,' said one of the doctors, 'in getting up and running away to the army to get killed? You could die much more comfortably here in bed.' 'Not at all,' I replied. 'I don't get killed when I'm with the army. I merely get nearly killed. Then I lie unconscious on the field, in the rain, until some good friend comes along, takes me away on his back and puts me in a warm bed. It's a lot safer than staying in your hospital all the time.'”
 
“Oh, shut up, George! Come and see the boys. They'll be glad to know you're back—what's left of 'em.”
 
Warner's welcome was in truth warm. He seemed more phlegmatic than ever, but he opened his eyes wide when they told him of the dispatch that had been lost and found.
 
“General McClellan must have been waiting for me,” he said. “Tell him I've come.”
 
But General McClellan did not yet move. The last long hour of the day passed. The sun set in red and gold behind the western mountains, and the Army of the Potomac still rested in its camp, although privates even knew that precious hours were being lost, and that booming cannon might already be telling the defenders of Harper's Ferry that Jackson was at hand.
 
Nor were they far wrong. While McClellan lingered on through the night, never moving from his camp, Jackson and his generals were pushing forward with fiery energy and at dawn the next day had surrounded Harper's Ferry and its doomed garrison of more than twelve thousand men.
 
But these were things that Dick could not guess that night. One small detachment had been sent ahead by McClellan, chiefly for scouting purposes, and in the darkness the boy who had gone a little distance forward with Colonel Winchester heard the booming of cannon. It was a faint sound but unmistakable, and Dick glanced at his chief.
 
“That detachment has come into contact with the rebels somewhere there in the mountains,” he said, “and the ridges and valleys are bringing us the echoes. Oh, why in Heaven's name are we delayed here through all the precious moments! Every hour's delay will cost the lives of ten thousand good men!”
 
And it is likely that in the end Colonel Winchester's reckoning was too moderate. He and Dick gazed long in the direction in which Harper's Ferry lay, and they listened, too, to the faint mutter of the guns among the hills. Before dawn, scouts came in, saying that there had been hard fighting off toward Harper's Ferry, and that Lee with the other division of the Southern army was retreating into a peninsula formed by the junction of the river Antietam with the Potomac, where he would await the coming of Jackson, after taking Harper's Ferry.
 
“Jackson hasn't taken Harper's Ferry yet,” said Dick, when he heard the news. “Many of Banks' veterans of the valley are there, and, our men instead of being crushed by defeat, are always improved by it.”
 
“Still, I wish we'd march,” said Warner. “I didn't come here merely to go into camp. I might as well have stayed in the hospital.”
 
Nevertheless they moved at daylight. McClellan had made up his mind at last, and the army advanced joyfully to shut down the trap on Lee. Dick's spirits rose with the sun and the advance of the troops. They had delayed, but they would get Lee yet. There was nothing to tell them that Harper's Ferry had fallen, and Jackson's force must still be detained there far away. They ought to strike Lee on the morrow and destroy him, and then they would destroy Jackson. Oh, Lee and Jackson had been reckless generals to venture beyond the seceding states!
 
They marched fast now, and the fiery Hooker soon to be called Fighting Joe led the advance. He was eager to get at Lee, who some said did not now have more than twenty thousand men with him, although McClellan insisted on doubling or tripling his numbers and those of Jackson. Scouts and skirmishers came in fast now. Yes, Lee was between the Antietam and the Potomac and they ought to strike him on the morrow. The spirits of the Army of the Potomac continually rose.
 
Dick remained in a joyous mood. He had been greatly uplifted by the return of his comrade, Warner, for whom he had formed a strong attachment, and he could not keep down the thought that they would now be able to trap Lee and end the war. The terrible field of the Second Manassas was behind him and forgotten for the time. They rode now to a new battle and to victory.
 
Another great cloud of dust like that at Manassas rolled slowly on toward the little river or creek of Antietam, but the heat was not so great now. A pleasant breeze blew from the distant western mountains and cooled the faces of the soldiers. The country through which they were passing was old for America. They saw a carefully cultivated soil, good roads and stone bridges.
 
None of the lads and young men around Colonel Winchester rejoiced more than Warner. Released from the hospital and with his tried comrades once more he felt as if he were the dead come back. He was in time, too, for the great battle which was to end the war. The cool wind that blew upon his face tingled with life and made his pulses leap. Beneath the granite of his nature and a phlegmatic exterior, he concealed a warm heart that always beat steadfastly for his friends and his country.
 
“Dick,” he said, “have they heard anything directly from Harper's Ferry?”
 
“Not a word, at least none that I've heard about, but it's quite sure that Jackson hasn't taken the place yet. Why should he? We have there twelve or thirteen thousand good men, most of whom have proven their worth in the valley. Why, they ought to beat him off entirely.”
 
“And while they're doing that we ought to be taking Mr. Lee and a lot of well-known Confederate gentlemen. I've made a close calculation, Dick, and I figure that the chances are at least eighty per cent in favor of our taking or destroying Lee's army.”
 
“I wish we had started sooner,” said Pennington. “We've lost a whole day, one of the most precious days the world has ever known.”
 
“You're right, Frank, and I've allowed that fact to figure importantly in my reckoning. If it were not for the lost day I'd figure our chance of making the finishing stroke at ninety-five per cent. But boys, it's glorious to be back with you. Once, I thought when we were marching back and forth so much that if I could only lie down and rest for a week or two I'd be the happiest fellow on earth. But it became awful as I lay there, day after day. I had suddenly left the world. All the great events were going on without me. North or South might win, while I lay stretched on a hospital bed. It was beyond endurance. If I hadn't got well so fast that they could let me go, I'd have climbed out of the window with what strength I had, and have made for the army anyhow. Did you ever feel a finer wind than this? What a beautiful country! It must be the most magnificent in the world!”
 
Dick and Pennington laughed. Old George was growing gushy. But they understood that he saw with the eyes of the released prisoner.
 
“It is beautiful,” said Dick, “and it's a pity that it should be ripped up by war. Listen, boys, there's the call that's growing mighty familiar to us all!”
 
Far in front behind the hills they heard the low grumbling of cannon. And further away to the west they heard the same sinister mutter. The Confederates were scattered widely, and the fateful Orders No. 191 might cause their total destruction, but they were on guard, nevertheless. Jackson, foreseeing the possible advance of McClellan, had sent back Hill with a division to help Lee, and to delay the Northern army until he himself should come with all his force.
 
In this desperate crisis of the Confederacy, more desperate than any of the Southern generals yet realized, the brain under the old slouch hat never worked with more precision, clearness and brilliancy. He would not only do his own task, but he would help his chief while doing it. When McClellan began his march after a delay of a day he was nearer to Lee than Jackson was and every chance was his, save those that lightning perception and unyielding courage win.
 
The lads heard the mutter of the cannon grow louder, and rise to a distant thunder. Far ahead of them, where high hills thick with forest rose, they saw smoke and flashes of fire. A young Maryland cavalry officer, riding near, explained to them that the point from which the cannonade came was a gap in South Mountain, although it was as yet invisible, owing to the forest.
 
“We heard that Lee's army was much further away,” said Warner to Dick. “What can it mean? What force is there fighting our vanguard?”
 
It was Shepard, the spy, who brought them the facts. He had already reported to General McClellan, when he approached Colonel Winchester. His face was worn and drawn, and he was black under the eyes. His clothes were covered with dust. His body was weary almost unto death, but his eyes burned with the fire of an undying spirit.
 
“I've been all the night and all this morning in the mountains and ............