CHAPTER XII

THE ZENITH OF THE SOUTH




The sun of the first day of July, which was to witness the beginning
of the most tremendous event in the history of America, dawned hot and
clouded with vapors. They hung in the valleys, over the steep stony
hills and along the long blue slopes of South Mountain. The mists made
the country look more fantastic to Harry, who was early in the saddle.
The great uplifts and projections of stone assumed the shapes of castles
and pyramids and churches.

Over South Mountain, on the west, heavy black clouds floated, and the
air was close and oppressive.

"Rain, do you think?" said Harry to Dalton.

"No, just a sultry day. Maybe a wind will spring up and drive away
all these clouds and vapors. At least, I hope so. There's the bugle.
We're off on our shoe campaign."

"Who leads us?"

"We go with Pettigrew, and Heth comes behind. In a country so thick
with enemies it's best to move only in force."

The column took up its march and a cloud of dust followed it. The