"They look more like lanterns carried by 'coon and 'possum hunters than the campfires of an army," said Harry.
"Yes, you'd hardly think they mark the presence of twenty or thirty thousand men," said St. Clair. "Here we are at the cornfield. The plants are not high, but they throw enough shadow to hide us."
They climbed a rail fence, and advanced down the corn rows. The moon was good and there was a plentiful supply of stars, enabling them to see some distance. To their right on a hill was a white Colonial house, with all its windows dark.
"That house would be in a bad place if a battle comes off here, as seems likely," said St. Clair.
"And those who own it are wise in having gone away," said Harry.
"I'm not so sure that they've gone. People hate to give up their homes even in the face of death. Around here they generally stay and put out the lights at dark."
"Well, here we are at the end of the cornfield, and the light is not more than four or five hundred yards away. I think I can see the shadows of human figures against the flames. Come, let's climb the fence and go down through this skirt of bushes."
The suggestion appealed to the daring and curiosity of both, and in a few minutes they were within two hundred yards of the Northern camp. But they lay very close in the undergrowth. They saw a big fire and Harry judged that four or five hundred men were scattered about. Many were asleep on the grass, but others sat up talking. The appearance of all was so extraordinary that Harry gazed in astonishment.
It was not the faces or forms of the men, but their dress that was so peculiar. They were arrayed in huge blouses and vast baggy trousers of a blazing red, fastened at the knee and revealing stockings of a brilliant hue below. Little tasselled caps were perched on the sides of their heads. Harry remembering his geography and the descriptions of nations would have taken them for a gathering of Turkish women, if their masculine faces had been hidden.
"What under the moon are those?" he whispered. "They do look curious," replied St. Clair. "They call them Zouaves, and I think they're from New York. It's a copy of a French military costume which, unless I'm mistaken, France uses in Algeria."