The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis by Joseph A. Altsheler (books you have to read .TXT) 📕

“That's right, good-bye. I see a senator whom I need.”

They shook hands and Watson hurried away with great lightness and agility for so large a man.

Dick stayed two days longer in Washington, visiting Warner twice a day and seeing with gladness his rapid improvement. When he was with him the last time, and told him he was going to join the Army of the Potomac, Warner said:

“Dick, old man, I haven't spoken before of the way you brought me in from that last battlefield. Pennington has told me about it—but if I didn't it was not because I wasn't grateful. Up in Vermont we're not much on words—our training I suppose, though I don't say it is the best training. It's quite sure that I'd have died if you hadn't found me.”

“Why, George, I looked for you as a matter of course. You'd have done exactly the same for me.”

“That's just it, but I didn't get the chance. Now, Dick, there's going to be another big battle before long, and I shall be up in time for it. You'll be there, too. Couldn't you get yourself shot late in the afternoon, lie on the ground, feverish and delirious until far in the night, when I'd come for you. Then I could pay you back.”

Dick laughed. He knew that at the bottom of Warner's jest lay a resolve to match the score, whenever the chance should come.

“Good-bye, George,” he said. “I'll look for you in two weeks.”

“Make it only ten days. McClellan will need me by that time.”

But it seemed to Dick that McClellan would need him and every other man at once. Lee was marching. Passing by the capital he had advanced into Maryland, a Southern state, but one that had never seceded. The Southerners expected to find many reinforcements here among their kindred. The regiments in gray, flushed with victory, advanced singing:

“The despot's heel is on thy shore, Maryland! His torch is at thy temple door, Maryland! Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland, my Maryland!”

Dick knew that the South expected much of Maryland. Her people were Southerners. Their valor in the Revolution was unsurpassed. People still talked of the Maryland line and its great deeds. Many of the Marylanders had already come to Lee and Jackson, and now that the Southern army, led by its famous leaders and crowned with victories, was on their soil, it was expected that they would pour forward in thousands, relieved from the fear of Northern armies.

Alarm, deep and intense, spread all through the North. McClellan, as usual, doubled Lee's numbers but he organized with all speed to meet him. Dick heard that Lee was already at Frederick, giving his troops a few days' repose before meeting any enemy who might come. The utmost confidence reigned in the South.

McClellan marched, but he advanced slowly. The old mystery and uncertainty about the Southern army returned. It suddenly disappeared from Frederick, and McClellan became extremely cautious. He had nearly a hundred thousand men, veterans now, but he believed that Lee had two hundred thousand.

Colonel Winchester again complained bitterly to Dick, who was a comrade as well as an aide.

“What we need,” he said, “is a general who doesn't see double, and we haven't got him yet. We must spend less time counting the rebels and more hammering them.”

“A civilian in Washington told me that,” said Dick. “I believed then that he was right, and I believe it yet. If General Grant were here he'd attack instead of waiting to be attacked.”

But the Army of the Potomac continued to march forward in a slow and hesitating fashion. Dick, despite his impatience, appreciated the position of General McClellan. No one in the Union army or in the North knew the plans of Lee and Jackson. Lee had not even consulted the President of the Confederacy but had merely notified him that he was going into Maryland.

Now Lee and Jackson had melted away again in the mist that so often overhung their movements. McClellan could not be absolutely sure they intended an important invasion of Maryland. They might be planning to fall upon the capital from another direction. The Union commander must protect Washington and at the same time look for his enemy.

The army marched near the Potomac, and Dick, as he rode with his regiment, saw McClellan several times. It had not been many months since he took his great army by sea for what seemed to be the certain capture of Richmond, but McClellan, although a very young man for so high a position, had already changed much. His face was thinner, and it seemed to Dick that he had lost something of his confident look. The awful Seven Days and his bitter disappointment had left their imprint. Nevertheless he was trim, neat and upright, and always wore a splendid uniform. An unfailing favorite with the soldiers, they cheered him as he passed, and he would raise his hat, a flush of pride showing through the tan of his cheeks.

“If a general, after being defeated, can still retain the confidence of his army he must have great qualities of some kind,” said Dick to Colonel Winchester.

“That's true, Dick. McClellan lost at the Seven Days, and he has just taken over an army that was trapped and beaten under Pope, but behold the spirits of the men, although the Second Manassas is only a few days away. McClellan looks after the private soldier, and if he could only look after an army in the way that he organizes it this war would soon be over.”

Dick noticed that the colonel put emphasis on the “if” and his heart sank a little. But it soon rose again. The Army of the Potomac was now a veteran body. It had been tested in the fire of defeat, and it had emerged stronger and braver than ever.

But Dick did not like the mystery about Lee and Jackson. They had an extraordinary ability to drop out of sight, to draw a veil before them so completely that no Union scout or skirmisher could penetrate it. And these disappearances were always full of sinister omens, portending a terrible attack from an unknown quarter. But when Dick looked upon the great and brave Army of the Potomac, nearly a hundred thousand strong, his apprehensions disappeared. The Army of the Potomac could not be beaten, and since Lee and Jackson were venturing so far from their base, they might be destroyed. He confided his faith to Pennington who rode beside him.

“I tell you, Frank, old man,” he said, “the Southern army may never get back into Virginia.”

“Not if we light a prairie fire behind it and set another in front. Then we'll have 'em trapped same as they trapped us at Manassas. Wouldn't it be funny if we'd turn their own trick on 'em, and end the war right away?”

“It would be more than funny. It would be