But Bob was not so fortunate. The events of the day were still very fresh and vivid in his mind, and he could not readily dismiss the memory of them. It had all been so novel, so exciting, so nerve-racking, for this boy of seventeen, who never before in his life had been fifty miles distant from his native town. Yet he was not discontented or unhappy. On the contrary, so far as the wisdom of his course was concerned, his mind was perfectly at rest. His only anxiety was on account of his father and mother, who would be worrying about him at home. Yet he felt that he had done right. Whatever now might happen to his father, permanent escape from the Federal authorities, or arrest, imprisonment, and death, he knew that his own record as a Union soldier would help to save the family from complete disgrace. Moreover, the ambition of years was about to be realized, he was soon to be enlisted in the ranks of his country’s soldiers, and march and fight under the folds of the old flag. So, with this thought in his mind to temper the anxiety for his father in his heart, he fell into a calmer, deeper sleep than he had known before in many months. It was late when they arose the next morning, and, after a hurried breakfast, went out into the streets. It was Bob’s first visit to Washington, and he was deeply impressed by the sights and sounds that surrounded him. There were many people moving to and fro. Small bodies of troops went marching by. Officers in uniform hurried here and there. Hospital wagons carrying sick and wounded men brought in from the front, went trailing through the streets. Everywhere was noise, bustle, activity, color. Yet nowhere was there gayety. There was no laughter, no lightness of look or word, no care-free expression on the face of any passer-by. For Washington was troubled. Meade, who had been driven back almost half-way from the Rappahannock to the capital, under the repeated onslaughts of Lee’s depleted but still daring and determined armies, was just now taking fresh courage, facing his troops about, and turning back once more from Centreville toward the Rapidan. Yet the shadow of unnecessary retreat and imminent danger still rested on the city, and complete confidence had not been restored in the commander and the army that had fought so splendidly and successfully at Gettysburg in July. Even Sergeant Anderson, usually buoyant and light-hearted, seemed to partake of the prevailing depression, and as he and Bob made their way down to the river and across Long Bridge, little was said by either of them. At the end of the bridge a supply wagon going down to Alexandria came along, and the driver, who knew Sergeant Anderson, gave both men a ride with him to the Virginia city.