Before night the Union army had three bridges across the Rappahannock,
and before morning it had six. The regiment that had crossed held the
right bank of the river, that is, the side of the South, and the boats
moved freely back and forth in the stream.

Yet the main army itself did not yet begin the crossing. Harry slept a
few hours before and after midnight, lying in the lee of a little ridge
and wrapped in a pair of heavy blankets, but as he wakened from time to
time he heard little from the river. There were no sounds to indicate
that great streams of armed men with their cannon were pouring over the
bridges. After the tremendous cannonade of the afternoon the night
seemed very quiet and peaceful.

Fires were burning here and there, but they were not many. The
Confederate generals did not care to furnish beacons for the enemy.
When Harry stood up he could catch glimpses of the river, the color of
steel again, but the farther bank, where the great army of the foe yet
lay, was buried in darkness. He wondered why Burnside was not using
every hour of the night for crossing, but he remembered how the same
general had delayed so long at Antietam that Lee and Jackson were able
to save themselves.

He became conscious that it was growing much colder again. The zero
weather of a few days since was returning. Every light puff of wind was
like the stab of an icicle. He was glad that he had a pair of blankets
and that they were heavy ones, too. But he did not ask anything more.
It was remarkable how fast the youth of both North and South became
inured to every form of privation. They lived almost like the primitive
man, and many thrived on it.