"
Harry's eyes followed the pointing finger, and again his heart leaped.
His friends were there, the two colonels for whom he had such a strong
affection, and the two lads of his own age. Theirs looked like a good
camp, too. It was arranged neatly, and by its side flowed the clear,
cool waters of Young's Branch, a tributary of the little Manassas River.
He walked briskly, crossed the brook, stepping from stone to stone,
and entered the grounds of the Invincibles. A tall youth rushed forward,
seized his hand and shook it violently, meanwhile uttering cries of
welcome in an unbroken stream.
"By all the powers, it's our own Harry!" he exclaimed, "the new Harry
of the West, whom we were afraid we should never see again. Everything
is for the best, but we hardly hoped for this! How did you get here,
Harry? And you didn't bring Kentucky rushing to our side, after all!
Well, I knew it wasn't your fault, old horse! Ho, St. Clair, come and
see who's here!"
St. Clair, who had been lying in the grass behind a tent, appeared and
greeted Harry joyfully. But while Langdon was just the same he had
changed in appearance. He was thinner and graver, and his intellectual
face bore the stamp of rapid maturity.
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