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.

"Dick! Dick Mason!" he cried. Then the two sprang forward and grasped
the hands of each other. There was no display of emotion--they were of
the stern American stock, taught not to show its feelings--but their eyes
showed their gladness.

"Harry," said Dick, "I knew that you had been with Jackson, but I had no
way of knowing until a moment ago that you were yet alive."

"Nor I you, Dick. I thought you were in the west."

"I was, but after Shiloh, some of us came east to help. It seemed after
the Seven Days that we were needed more here than in the west."

"You never said truer words, Dick. They'll need you and many more
thousands like you. Why, Dick, we're not led here by a man, we're led by
a thunderbolt. I'm on his staff, I see him every day. He talks to me,
and I talk to him. I tell you, Dick, it's a wonderful thing to serve
such a genius. You can't beat him! His kind appears only a few times
in the ages. He always knows what's to be done and he does it. Even if