Would Lee and
Jackson advance, hot upon the heels of their victory? Would Washington
fall? Would McClellan be able to save them? Why weren't the generals
of the North as good as those of the South?
Dick listened to the talk which was for all who might choose to hear.
He did not assume any superior frame of mind, merely because he had
fought in many battles and these men had fought in none. He retained
the natural modesty of youth, and knowing that one who looked on might
sometimes be a better judge of what was happening than the one who took
part, he weighed carefully what they said.
He was in a comfortable chair by the wall, and while he sat there a heavy
man of middle age, whom he remembered well, approached and stood before
him, regarding him with a keen and measuring eye.
"Good morning, Mr. Watson," said Dick politely.
"Ah, it is you, Lieutenant Mason!" said the contractor. "I thought so,
but I was not sure, as you are thinner than you were when I last saw you.
I'll just take this seat beside you."
A man in the next chair had moved and the contractor dropped into it.
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