He might hear the rifle of some picket, more wary or more enterprising than the others, sounding the alarm.

But no such sound came to his ears.

It had turned warmer again, and he heard only the Southern wind, heavy with the odors of grass and flower, sighing through the tall forest.
An anger against his own surged up in his breast.

Why wouldn't they look?
How could they escape seeing?
Was it possible for one great army to remain unknown within cannon shot of another a whole night?
It was incredible, but he had seen it, and he knew it.

Fierce and bitter words rose to his lips, but he did not utter them.
Dick lay a long time, with his eyes open, and the night was passing as peacefully as if there would be no red dawn.