guns, had made his preparations for
attack; but the timidity which he had already displayed when face to
face with Jackson had once more taken possession of his faculties.
Vigorous in pursuit of a flying enemy, when that enemy turned at bay
his courage vanished. The Confederate position was undoubtedly
strong, but it was not impregnable. The woods on either flank gave
access under cover to the central ridge. The superior weight of his
artillery was sufficient to cover an advance across the open; and
although he was without maps or guide, the country was not so
intersected as to render manoeuvring impracticable.

In his official report Fremont lays great stress on the difficulties
of the ground; but reading between the lines it is easy to see that
it was the military situation which overburdened him. The vicious
strategy of converging columns, where intercommunication is tedious
and uncertain, once more exerted its paralysing influence. It was
some days since he had heard anything of Shields. That general's
dispatch, urging a combined attack, had not yet reached him: whether
he had passed Luray or whether he had been already beaten, Fremont
was altogether ignorant; and, in his opinion, it was quite possible
that the whole of the Confederate army was before him.

A more resolute commander would probably have decided that the
shortest way out of the dilemma was a vigorous attack. If Shields was
within hearing of the guns--and it was by no means improbable that he
was--such a course was the surest means of securing his co-operation;
and even if no help came, and the Confederates maintained their
position, they might be so crippled as to be unable to pursue. Defeat
would not have been an irreparable misfortune. Washington was secure.
Banks, Saxton, and McDowell held the approaches; and if Fremont
himself were beaten back, the strategic situation could be in no way
affected. In fact a defeat, if it had followed an attack so hotly
pressed as to paralyse Jackson for the time being, would have been
hardly less valuable than a victory.

"Fortune," it has been well said, "loves a daring suitor, and he who
throws down the gauntlet may always count upon his adversary to help
him." Fremont, however, was more afraid of losing the battle than
anxious to win it. "Taking counsel of his fears," he would run no
risks. But neither could he abstain from action altogether. An enemy
was in front of him who for seven days had fled before him