"I didn't stop to investigate."

Mr. Beecham broke in upon their conversation at that point with some
observations of his own upon the subject of Northern politics. Then he
drifted to war manoeuvers: "I tell you, Beauregard will smash that man
Mitchel to a million pieces. Mitchel is so frightened that he dares not
move. Whichever way he moves, he is lost. He is trapped like a man at
chess. The best thing he can do is to surrender before he loses his troops.
He dares not move."

And Tom was thinking to himself: "How surprised you'd be if you knew that
Mitchel was moving this very minute."

Mitchel _was_ moving. Under the weight of their water-soaked equipment, his
men were plodding wearily through the mud, marching slowly and steadily
upon Huntsville. While Tom had been riding through the night, Mitchel's men
had slept on the flooded ground between Shelbyville and Fayetteville. Now
they were prying the heaving wagons from the mud holes, while the cavalry
swept out on the flanks to clear the country of enemy scouts. Skirmishers
were advancing through the woods and over the hills, protecting the troops,
with their thousands of wagons and guns, from surprise attack. General
Mitchel, riding through the drizzle, announced to his aides: "Regardless of
the weather, we will attack Huntsville Friday."

Even Andrews, underrating Mitchel's relentless determination to do what he
said he would do, if all the forces of the weather were against him,
thought himself safe in delaying the raid at least one day.