"It's he and none other," said Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire.
A tall, powerfully built, gray-haired man was coming toward them, his hands extended. Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire stepped forward, and each grasped a hand.
"Good old John!"
"Why, John, it's worth a victory to shake your hand again!"
"Leonidas, I've been inquiring, an hour or two, for you and Hector."
"John Carrington, you've fulfilled your promise and more. We always said at West Point that you'd become the greatest artilleryman in the world, and in this war you've proved it on fifty battle fields. We've often watched your work from the other side, and we've always admired the accuracy with which you sent the shells flying about us. It was wonderful, John, wonderful, and it did more than anything else to save the North from complete defeat!"
A smile passed over John Carrington's strong face, and he patted his old comrade on the shoulder.
"It's good to know, Leonidas, that neither you nor Hector has been killed," he said, "and that we can dine together again."
"Truly, truly, John! Sit down! It's the hospitality of your own general that you share when you join us. General Lee would never make terms with men like McClellan, Burnside and Hooker. No, sir, he preferred to defeat them, much as it cost our Union in blood and treasure, but with a man of genius like General Grant he could agree. Really great souls always recognize one another. Is it not so, John?"
"Beyond a doubt, Leonidas. We fully admit the greatness and lofty character of General Lee, as you admit the greatness and humanity of General Grant. One nation is proud to have produced two such men."