Good God, Frank, think of all the sacrifices we are making to save our Union, the great republic! Think how the hateful old monarchies will sneer and rejoice if we fall, and here in the East our generals just throw our men away! They divide and scatter our armies in such a manner that we simply ask to be beaten." "Sh! sh!" said Warner, as he listened to the violent outbreak, so unusual on the part of the reserved and self-contained lad.

"Here come two generals." "Two too many," muttered Dick.

A moment or two later he was ashamed of himself, not because of what he had said, but because he had said it.
Then Warner seized him by the arm and pointed.
"A new general, bigger than all the rest, has come," he said, "and although I've never seen him before I know with mathematical certainty that it's General John Pope, commander-in-chief of the Army of Virginia." Both Dick and Pennington knew instinctively that Warner was right.
General Pope, a strongly built man in early middle years, surrounded by a brilliant staff, rode into a little glade in the midst of the troops, and summoned to him the leading officers who had taken part in the battle.
Dick and his two comrades stood on one side, but they could not keep from hearing what was said and done.

In truth they did not seek to avoid hearing, nor did many of the young privates who stood near and who considered themselves quite as good as their officers.
Pope, florid and full-faced, was in a fine humor.

He complimented the officers on their valor, spoke as if they had won a victory--which would have been a fact had others done their duty--and talked slightingly of Jackson.