"But it seems to me that Stuart ought to be with us."
"Maybe he's gone to find out just where the Army of the Potomac is. We've lost Meade, and Meade has lost us. Some prisoners that we've brought in say that nobody in the North knows just where our army is, although all know that it's in Pennsylvania."
But that night, while Harry was at General Lee's headquarters, a scout arrived with news that the Army of the Potomac was advancing upon an almost parallel line and could throw itself in his rear. Other scouts came, one after another, with the same report. Harry saw the gravity with which the news was received, and he speedily gathered from the talk of those about him that Lee must abandon his advance to the Pennsylvania capital and turn and fight, or be isolated far from Virginia, the Southern base.
Stuart and the cavalry were still absent on a great raid. Lee's orders to Stuart were not explicit, and the cavalry leader's ardent soul gave to them the widest interpretation. Now they felt the lack of his horsemen, who in the enemy's country could have obtained abundant information. A spy had brought them the news that the Army of the Potomac had crossed the Potomac and was marching on a parallel line with them, but at that point their knowledge ended. The dark veil, which was to be lifted in such a dramatic and terrible manner, still hung between the two armies.
The weather turned very warm, as it was now almost July. So far as the heat was concerned Harry could not see any difference between Pennsylvania and Kentucky and Virginia. In all three the sun blazed at this time of the year, but the country was heavy with crops, now ripening fast. It was a region that Harry liked. He had a natural taste for broken land with slopes, forests, and many little streams of clear water. Most of the fields were enclosed in stone fences, and the great barns and well-built houses indicated prosperous farmers.
He and Dalton rode up to one of these houses, and, finding every door and window closed, knocked on the front door with a pistol butt. They knew it was occupied, as they had seen smoke coming from the chimney.
"This house surely belongs to a Dutchman," said Dalton, meaning one of those Pennsylvanians of German descent who had settled in the rich southeast of Pennsylvania generations ago.
"I fear they don't know how to talk English," said Harry.
"They can if they have to. Hit that door several times more, Harry, and hit it hard. They're a thrifty people, and they wouldn't like to see a good door destroyed."
Harry beat a resounding tattoo until the door was suddenly thrown open and the short figure of a man of middle years, chin-whiskered and gray, but holding an old-fashioned musket in his hands, confronted them.