as very grave, and so were all the others as they started
toward their divisions, except Beauregard, who said in sanguine tones:

"Gentlemen, we shall sleep tomorrow night in the enemy's camp."

Word, in the mysterious ways of war, had slid through the camp that
the generals were in council, and many soldiers, driven by overwhelming
curiosity, had crept through the underbrush to watch the figures by the
fire in the ravine. They could not hear, they did not seek to hear, but
they were held by a sort of spell. When they saw them separate, every
one moving toward his own headquarters, they knew that there was
nothing to await now but the dawn, and they stole back toward their own
headquarters.

Dick had gone with Colonel Kenton to his own regiment, in the very heart
of the Orphan Brigade, and on his way his uncle said:

"Dick, you will sleep among my own lads, and I ask you for your own sake
to make no attempt to escape tonight. You would certainly be shot."

"I recognize that fact, sir, and I shall await a better opportunity."

"What to do with you in the morning I don't know, but we shall probably
be able to take care of you. Meanwhile, Dick, go to sleep if you can.
See, our boys are spread here through the woods. If it were day you'd
probably find at least a dozen among them whom you know, and certainly a
hundred are of blood kin to you, more or less."

Dick saw the dim forms stretched in hundreds on the ground, and,
thanking his uncle for his kindness, he stretched himself upon an
unoccupied bit of turf and closed his eyes. But it was impossible for
young Richard Mason to sleep. He felt again that terrible thrill
of agony, because he, alone, of all the score and more of Northern
millions, knew that the Southern trap was about to fall, and he could
not tell.

Never was he further from sleep. His nerves quivered with actual
physical pain. He opened his eyes again and saw the dim forms lying
in row on row as far in the forest as his eye could reach. Then he
listened. He might hear the rifle of some picket, more wary or more
enterprising than the others, sounding the alarm. But no such sound came
to his ears. It had turned warmer again, and he heard only the Southern
wind, heavy with the odors of grass and flower, sighing through the tall
forest.

An anger against his own surged up in his breast. Why wouldn't they
look? How could they escape seeing? Was it possible for one great army
to remain unknown within cann