The Guns of Bull Run | Page 5

with teachers and pupils.
Dick's eyes followed Harry's, and he, too, looked at the falling snow
and the white forest. Both were thinking of Christmas and the holiday
season so near at hand. It was a rich section of Kentucky, and they were
the sons of prosperous parents. The snow was fitting at such a time, and
many joyous hours would be passed before they returned to school.
The clouds darkened and the snow fell faster. A wind rose and drove it
against the panes. The boys heard the blast roaring outside and the
comfort of the warm room was heightened by the contrast. Harry's eyes
turned reluctantly back to his Tacitus and the customs and manners of
the ancient Germans. The curriculum of the Pendleton Academy was
simple, like most others at that time. After the primary grades it
consisted chiefly of the classics and mathematics. Harry led in the
classics and Dick in the mathematics.
Bob Turner, the free colored man, who was janitor of the academy,
brought in the morning mail, a dozen letters and three or four
newspapers, gave it to Dr. Russell and withdrew on silent feet.
The Doctor was principal of Pendleton Academy, and he always
presided over the room in which sat the larger boys, nearly fifty in
number. His desk and chair were on a low dais and he sat facing the
pupils. He was a large man, with a ruddy face, and thick hair as white
as the snow that was falling outside. He had been a teacher fifty years,
and three generations in Pendleton owed to him most of the learning
that is obtained from books. He opened his letters one by one, and read
them slowly.

Harry moved far away into the German forest with old Tacitus. He was
proud of his Latin and he did not mean to lose his place as first in the
class. The other boys also were absorbed in their books. It was seldom
that all were studious at the same time, but this was one of the rare
moments. There was no shuffling of feet, and fifty heads were bent
over their desks.
It was a full half hour before Harry looked up from his Tacitus. His first
glance was at the window. The snow was driving hard, and the forest
had become a white blur. He looked next at the Doctor and he saw that
the ruddy face had turned white. The old man was gazing intently at an
open letter in his hand. Two or three others had fallen to the floor. He
read the letter again, folded it carefully, and put it in his pocket. Then
he broke the wrapper on one of the newspapers and rapidly read its
columns. The whiteness of his face deepened into pallor.
The slight tearing sound caused most of the boys to look up, and they
noticed the change in the principal's face. They had never seen him
look like that before. It was as if he had received some sudden and
deadly stroke. Yet he sat stiffly upright and there was no sound in the
room but the rustling of the newspaper as he turned its pages.
Harry became conscious of some strange and subtle influence that had
crept into the very air, and his pulse began to leap. The others felt it,
too. There was a tense feeling in the room and they became so still that
the soft beat of the snow on the windows could be heard.
Not a single eye was turned to a book now. All were intent upon the
Doctor, who still read the newspaper, his face without a trace of color,
and his strong white hands trembling. He folded the paper presently,
but still held it in his hand. As he looked up, he became conscious of
the silence in the room, and of the concentrated gaze of fifty pairs of
eyes bent upon him. A little color returned to his cheeks, and his hands
ceased to tremble. He stood up, took the letter from his pocket, and
opened it again.
Dr. Russell was a striking figure, belonging to a classic type found at
its best in the border states. A tall man, he held himself erect, despite

his years, and the color continued to flow back into the face, which was
shaped in a fine strong mold.
"Boys," he said, in a firm, full voice, although it showed emotion, "I
have received news which I must announce to you. As I tell it, I beg
that you will restrain yourselves, and make little comment here. Its
character is such that you are not likely ever to hear anything of more
importance."
No one spoke, but a thrill of excitement ran through the room. Harry
became conscious that