Then the irrepressible band began.

In the fire-lighted woods and on the ground yet stained by the red of battle, it played quaint old tunes, waltzes and polkas and roundelays, and once more the stalwart Pierres and Raouls and Luciens and Etiennes, clasping one another in their arms, whirled in wild dances before the fires.
The heavy clouds opened bye and bye, and then all save the sentinels fled to shelter.

Harry and Dalton, who had been watching the dancing, went to a small tent which had been erected for themselves and two more.
Next to it was a tent yet smaller, occupied by the commander-in-chief, and as they passed by it they heard low but solemn tones lifted in invocation to God.

Harry could not keep from taking one fleeting glance.
He saw Jackson on his knees, and then he went quickly on.
The other two officers had not yet come, and Dalton and he were alone in the tent.

It was too dark inside for Harry to see Dalton's face, but he knew that his comrade, too, had seen and heard.
"It will be hard to beat a general who prays," said Dalton.