from houses set on fire by the shells streamed aloft like vast torches.
Horses that had lost their riders galloped aimlessly, wild with terror.

While he looked, General Hill rode up and joined them. Hill had been
ill that day. His face was deadly in its pallor, and he swayed in his
saddle from weakness. But his spirit and courage were high. Harry saw
the two generals talking together, and again he glanced at the valley.
After long and desperate fighting the Southern victory had been
complete. Any young lieutenant could see that. The whole Northern
force was now being driven in great disorder upon Cemetery Hill, and a
man like Jackson, without going to see Lee, would have hurled his whole
force instantly upon those flying masses. Some one had called Ewell and
Hill, brave and able as they were, small change for Jackson, and the
phrase often came to Harry's mind. Still, it was not possible to find
any man or any two men who could fill the place of the great Stonewall.

The day was far from over. At least three hours of sunlight were left.
More Southern troops had come up, and Harry expected to see Lee launch
his superior numbers against the defeated enemy. But he did not.
There was some pursuit, but it was not pressed with vigor, and the
victors stopped. Contradictory orders were given, it was claimed later,
by the generals, but Lee, with the grandeur of soul that places him so
high among the immortals, said afterward:

"The attack was not pressed that afternoon, because the enemy's force
was unknown, and it was considered advisable to await the rest of our
troops."

When failure occurred he never blamed anyone but himself. Yet Harry
always thought that his genius paled a little that afternoon. He did