Nor had the vigilant eyes of the Confederacy in the East failed to note the situation.
Just as the armies were coming into touch a division of the Army of Northern Virginia was passing by train over the mountains.

It was led by a thick-bearded, powerful man, no less a general than the renowned Longstreet, sent to help Bragg.

The veterans of the Army of Northern Virginia would swell Bragg's ranks, and the great army, turning a sanguine face northward, was eager for Rosecrans to come on.

The Southern force would number more than ninety thousand men, more numerous than ever before or afterward in the West.
It was now late in September, the eve of the eighteenth, and Dick and his comrades lay near the little creek with the rhythmical name, Chickamauga.

It was the very night that a portion of the Army of Northern Virginia had arrived in Bragg's camp.