Harry did not know their errand, but he surmised that they were to meet General Lee for the final conference.

The general said no word, but rode steadily on.

Union skirmishers, under cover of the fog and bushes, had crept far in advance of their columns, and, as the fog continued to thin away and the day to brighten, they saw Jackson and his staff.
Harry heard bullets whistling sinister little threats in his ear as they passed, and he heard other bullets pattering on the trees or the earth.
They alarmed him more than the huge cannon thundering away from the other side of the river.

But the fog, although thin, was still enough to make the aim of the skirmishers bad, and General Jackson and his staff went on their way unhurt.
They reached a little hill near the middle of the Southern bent bow.
It had no name then, but it is called Lee's Hill now, because at nine o'clock that morning General Lee, mounted on his white horse, was upon its crest awaiting his generals, to give them his last instructions.
Longstreet was already there, and, just as Jackson came, the fog thinned away entirely and the sun began to blaze with a heat almost like that of summer, rapidly thawing the hard earth.
The young officers on the different staffs reined back, while their chiefs drew together.

Yet for a few moments no one said anything.
Harry always believed that the veteran generals were moved as he was by the sight below.