Victory, won for a little while, had been lost. Night protected their
retreat, and they fought with a valor that made Jackson and all his
generals cautious. But this knowledge was little compensation to the
Northern troops. They knew that behind them was a great army, that Pope
might have been present with fifty thousand men, sufficient to overwhelm
Jackson. Instead of the odds being more than two to one in their favor,
they had been two to one against them.
It was a sullen army that lay in the woods in the first hour or two of
the night, gasping for breath. These men had boasted that they were a
match for those of Jackson, and they were, if they could only have traded
generals. Dick and his comrades from the west began to share in the awe
that the name of Stonewall Jackson inspired.
"He comes up to his advertisements. There ain't no doubt of it," said
Sergeant Whitley. "I never saw anybody fight better than our men did,
an' that charge of the little troop of cavalry was never beat anywhere in
the world. But here we are licked, and thirty or forty thousand men of
ours not many miles away!"
He spoke the last words with a bitterness that Dick had never heard in
his voice before.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47