The morning was bright and hot.
A haze of heat hung over the mountains, and to Harry the valley was more beautiful and picturesque than ever.

He had again flitting feelings of melancholy that it should be torn so ruthlessly by war.
If Shepard and other Northern scouts were near, they were lax that morning.

Not a soul in the garrison at Front Royal dreamed of Jackson's swift approach.

They were soon to have a terrible awakening.
Harry saw Jackson raise the visor of his old cap a little, and he saw the eyes beneath it gleam.
"We must be near Front Royal," he said to Dalton.
"It's just beyond the woods there.

It's not more than half a mile away." The army halted a moment and Jackson sent forward a long line of skirmishers through the wood.