yes shone with blue fire, and rising in his
stirrups he said:

"We will not cross the Potomac to-night, gentlemen."

Then while they still waited in silence, he said:

"Go to your commands! Reform and strengthen your lines. Collect all your
stragglers. Bring up every man who is in the rear. If McClellan wants a
battle again in the morning, he shall have it. Now go!"

Not a general said a word in objection, in fact, they did not speak
at all, but rode slowly away, every one to his command. Yet they were,
without exception, against the decision of their great leader.

Even Stonewall Jackson did not want a second battle. He had shown
through the doubtful conflict a most extraordinary calmness. While the
combat in the north, where he commanded, was at its height, he had sat
on Little Sorrel, now happily restored to him, eating from time to
time a peach that he took from his pocket. Nothing had escaped his
observation; he watched every movement, and noticed every rise and fall
in the tide of success. His silence now indicated that he concurred with
the others in his belief that the remains of the Confederate army
should withdraw across the Potomac, but his manner indicated complete
acquiescence in the decision of his leader.

But in the north of the peninsula the remnants of either side had scarce
a thought to bestow upon victory or defeat. It was a question that did
not concern them for the present, so utter was their exhaustion. As
night came and the battle ceased they dropped where they were and sank
into sleep or a stupor that was deeper than sleep.

But Dick this time did neither. His nervous system had been strained so
severely that it was impossible for him to keep still. He had found that
all of his friends had received wounds, although they were too slight
to put them out of action. But the Winchester regiment had suffered
terribly again. It did not have a hundred men left fit for service,
and even at that it had got off better than some others. In one of the
Virginia regiments under Longstreet only fourteen men had been left
unhurt.

Dick stood beside his colonel--Warner and Pennington were lying in a
stupor--and he was appalled. The battle had been fought within a narrow
area, and the tremendous destruction was visible in the moonlight,
heaped up everywhere. Colonel Winchester was as much shaken as he, and
the two, the man and the boy, walked toward the picket line, drawn by a
sort of hideous fascination,