They were men wrapped in cavalry cloaks, because the night air had now grown somewhat chill, and Dick knew instinctively that these were the Southern generals preparing for the hammer-stroke at dawn.
A sentinel, rifle in hand, met them.

Colonel Kenton whispered with him a moment, and he went to the group.

He returned in a moment and escorted Dick and his uncle forward.

Colonel Kenton saluted and Dick involuntarily did the same.
It was a small fire, casting only a faint and flickering light, but Dick, his eyes now used to the dusk, saw well the faces of the generals.
He knew at once which was Johnston, the chief.

He seemed older than the rest, sixty at least, but his skin was clear and ruddy, and the firm face and massive jaw showed thought and power.