For it was the general who had commanded the brigade the day before,--the man who had leaped with one bound into the foremost rank of military leaders.

It was his invincible spirit that had led the advance, held back defeat against overwhelming numbers, sustained the rally, impressed his subordinate officers with his own undeviating purpose, and even infused them with an almost superstitious belief in his destiny of success.

It was this man who had done what it was deemed impossible to do,--what even at the time it was thought unwise and unstrategic to do,--who had held a weak position, of apparently no importance, under the mandate of an incomprehensible order from his superior, which at best asked only for a sacrifice and was rewarded with a victory.

He had decimated his brigade, but the wounded and dying had cheered him as he passed, and the survivors had pursued the enemy until the bugle called them back.

For such a record he looked still too young and scholarly, albeit his handsome face was dark and energetic, and his manner taciturn.
His quick eye had already caught sight of the rifled body of the officer, and contracted.