The Star of Gettysburg | Page 6

or war.
Harry himself had suffered for a while from a great exhaustion. He had

been terribly anxious, too, about his father, but a letter written just after
the battle of Perryville, and coming through with unusual promptness
by the way of Chattanooga and Richmond, had arrived the day before,
informing him of Colonel Kenton's safety. In this letter his father had
spoken of his meeting with Dick Mason in his home at Pendleton, and
that also contributed to his new lightness of heart. Dick was not a
brother, but he stood in the place of one, and it was good to hear again
of him.
The sounds of shouts and laughter far up and down the Opequon
became steady and soothing. The October winds blowing gently were
crisp and fresh, but not too cold. The four boys ceased talking and
Harry on his bed of leaves became drowsy. The forests on the far hills
and mountains burned in vivid reds and yellows and browns, painted by
the master hand of autumn. Harry heard a bird singing on a bough
among red leaves directly over his head, and the note was piercingly
sweet to ears used so long to the roar of cannon and rifles.
His drowsy lids sank lower and he would have gone to sleep had he not
been roused by a shouting farther down the little river. His eyes opened
wide and he sat up.
"What is it, George?" he said to Dalton.
"I don't know, but here comes Captain Sherburne, and I'll ask him."
Sherburne was approaching with long strides, his face flushed with
enthusiasm.
"What is it, Captain?" asked Harry. "What are the boys shouting
about?"
"The news has just reached them that Old Jack has been made a
lieutenant- general. General Lee asked the government to divide his
army into two corps, with Old Jack in command of one and Longstreet
in charge of the other. The government has seen fit to do what General
Lee advises it to do, and we are now the Second Army Corps, two
thousand officers, twenty-five thousand men and one hundred and

thirty guns, commanded by Lieutenant-General Thomas Jonathan
Jackson, better known to his enemy as 'Stonewall' Jackson and to his
men as 'Old Jack.'"
"Splendid!" exclaimed Harry. "Never was a promotion better earned!"
"And so say we all of us," said Happy Tom. "But just a moment,
Captain. What is the news about me?"
"About you, Tom?"
"Yes, about me? Didn't I win the victory at the Second Manassas?
Didn't I save the army at Antietam? Am I promoted to be a colonel or is
it merely a lieutenant-colonel?"
"I'm sorry, Tom," replied Sherburne with great gravity, "but there is no
mention of your promotion. I know it's an oversight, and we'll join in a
general petition to Richmond that you be made a lieutenant-colonel at
the very least."
"Oh, never mind. If it has to be done through the begging of my friends
I decline the honor. I don't know that I'd care to be any kind of a
colonel, anyhow. I'd have to pass the boys here, and maybe I'd have to
command 'em, which would make 'em feel bad. Old Jack himself might
become jealous of me. I guess I'm satisfied as I am."
"I like the modesty of the South Carolinians, Tom," said Dalton.
"There's a story going the rounds that you South Carolinians made the
war and that we Virginians have got to fight it."
"There may be such a story. It seems to me that it was whispered to me
once, but the internal evidence shows that it was invented by a
Virginian. Haven't I come up here and shed some of my blood and
more of my perspiration to save the sacred soil of the Mother of
Presidents from invasion? And didn't I bring with me Arthur St. Clair,
the best dressed man in Charleston, for the Yankees to shoot at? Hello,
what's that? This is a day of events!"

Hoots, cat-calls, and derisive yells arose along a long line. A trim
young officer on a fine bay horse was riding down a path beside the
Opequon. He was as beautifully dressed as St. Clair at his best. His
hands were encased in long white buckskin gloves, and long brown
mustaches curled beautifully up until they touched either cheek. It was
he, this Beau Brummel of the Southern army, who had attracted the
attention of irreverent youth. From the shelter of trees and bushes came
a chorus of cries:
"Take them mice out o' your mouth! I know they're there, 'cause I see
their tails stickin' out!"
"What kind o' hair oil do you use? I know your head's oiled, or it
wouldn't shine so."
"Be sure you keep your gloves on or