He rode
to the highest point of the hillock and looked toward the east into a
vast open world, lighted by the moon and stars. Off there just under
the horizon he caught a gleam of white and he knew instinctively what
it was. It was the dome of the Capitol in that city which was now the
capital of the North alone. It was miles away, but he saw it and his
heart thrilled. He forgot, for the moment, that by his own choice it
was no longer his own.
Harry sat on his horse and looked a long time at that far white glow,
deep down under the horizon. There was the capital of his own country,
the real capital. Somehow he could not divest himself of that idea,
and he looked until mists and vapors began to float up from the lowlands,
and the white gleam was lost behind them. Then he rode on slowly and
thoughtfully, trying to think of a plan that would bring rich rewards
for the cause for which he was going to fight.
He had discovered something already. He had seen the bayonets of a
regiment marching to join the Northern army, and he had no doubt that he
would see others. Perhaps they would consider themselves strong enough
in a day or two to attack. It was for him to learn.
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