"
"Is Jackson's army just sitting still?" asked Dick.
"So far as scouts can gather, an' I've been one of them," replied
Sergeant Whitley, "it seems to be just campin'. But I wish I knew which
way it was goin' to jump. I don't trust Jackson when he seems to be
nappin'."
But the good sergeant's doubts were to remain for two days at least.
The two armies sat still, only two miles apart, and sentinels, as was
common throughout the great war, became friendly with one another.
Often they met in the woods and exchanged news and abundant criticism of
generals. At last there was a truce to bury the dead who still lay upon
the sanguinary field of Cedar Run.
Dick was in charge of one of these burial parties, and toward the close
of the day he saw a familiar figure, also in command of a burial party,
although it was in a gray uniform. His heart began to thump, and he
uttered a cry of joy. The unexpected, but not the unnatural, had
happened.
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" he shouted.
The strong young figure in the uniform of a lieutenant in the Southern
army turned in surprise at the sound of a familiar voice, and stood,
staring.
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