But Harry had no doubt that it would be made. The reports of their
numerous scouts and spies told with detail of the immense preparations
going on in the Union camp. He could often watch them himself with his
glasses from the hills. He did not see much of St. Clair and Langdon
these days, as they remained closely with their regiment, the
Invincibles, but Dalton and he were much together.

It was well into December when they were watching through the glasses
the concentration of Union cannon on Stafford Heights across the river.
One hundred and fifty great guns were in position there and they could
easily blow Fredericksburg to pieces. Harry looked down again at this
little city which had jumped suddenly into fame by getting itself
squarely between the two armies arrayed for battle.

He felt the old sensation of pity as he gazed at the closed shutters and
the smokeless chimneys. Nobody was stirring in the streets, except some
Mississippi soldiers who had been placed there to oppose the passage,
and who were fortifying themselves in the houses and cellars along the
river front.

"It's no good looking any more," Harry said to Dalton. "There's nothing
to do now but wait. That's what General Jackson is doing. I saw him
in his tent to-day, reading a book on theology that Dr. Graham has just
sent him."

"You're right, Harry. If the general can rest, so can we. Well,
not much of this day is left. See how the Yankee batteries are fading
away in the twilight."