at he would find his friends
there and return with them to the camp. But it was later than he had
supposed. As he drew near he saw that nearly all the lights were out
in the hotel, and the building was silent.

He was sure that St. Clair and Langdon had already gone to the camp,
and he was about to turn away when he saw a window in the hotel thrown
up and a man appear standing full length in the opening.

It was Jefferson Davis. The same flood of moonlight that had poured
upon Shepard illuminated his face also. But it was not the face of a
triumphant man. It was stern, sad, even gloomy. The thin lips were
pressed together more tightly than ever, and the somber eyes looked
out over the city, but evidently saw nothing there. Harry felt
instinctively that his thoughts were like those of Shepard. He, too,
foresaw a great and terrible war, and, so foreseeing, knew that this
was no time to rejoice and glorify.

Harry, held by the strong spell of time and place, watched him a full
half hour. It was certain now that Jefferson Davis was thinking,
not looking at anything, because his head never moved, and his eyes were
always turned in the same direction--Harry noticed at last that the
direction was the North.

The new President stepped back, closed the window and no light came from
his room. Harry hurried to the camp, where, as he had surmised, he
found St. Clair and Langdon. He gave some excuse for his delay, and
telling nothing of Shepard, wrapped himself in his blankets. Exhausted
by the stirring events of the day and night he fell asleep at once.

Three days later they were on their way back to Charleston. They heard
that the inauguration of the new President had not been well received by
the doubtful states. Even the border slave states were afraid the lower
South had been a little too hasty. But among the youths of the Palmetto
Guards there was neither apprehension nor depression. They had been
present at the christening of the new nation, and now they were going
back to their own Charleston.

"Everything is for the best," said young Langdon, whose unfailing
spirits bubbled to the brim, "we'll have down here the tightest and
finest republic the world ever heard of. New Orleans will be the
biggest city, but our own Charleston will always be the leader, its
center of thought."

"What you need, Tom," said Harry, "is a center of thought yourself.
Don't be so terribly sanguine and you may save yourself