“Tell General Lee that General Jackson is waiting.” The sentinel hurried inside, General Jackson and his aide dismounted, and a moment later General Lee came out, extending his hand, which Jackson clasped. The two stood a moment looking at each other. It was the first time that they had met in the war, but Harry saw by the glance that passed that each knew the other a man, not an ordinary man, nor even a man of ten thousand, but a genius of the kind that appears but seldom. It was all the more extraordinary that the two should appear at the same time, serving together in perfect harmony, and sustaining for so long by their united power and intellect a cause that seemed lost from the first. It was not any wonder that Harry gazed with all his eyes at the memorable meeting. He knew Jackson, and he was already learning much of Lee. He saw in the Confederate commander-in-chief a man past fifty, ruddy of countenance, hair and beard short, gray and thick, his figure tall and powerful, and his expression at once penetrating and kind. He was dressed in a fine gray uniform, precise and neat. Such was Robert Edward Lee, and Harry thought him the most impressive human being upon whom he had ever looked. “General Jackson,” said General Lee, “this is a fortunate meeting. You have saved the Confederacy.” General Jackson made a gesture of dissent, but General Lee took him by the arm and they went into the house. General Jackson turned a moment at the door and motioned to Harry to follow. The boy went in, and found himself in a large room. Three men had risen from cane chairs to meet the visitor. One, broad of shoulders, middle-aged and sturdy, was Longstreet. The others more slender of figure were the two Hills. The major generals came forward eagerly to meet Jackson, and they also had friendly greetings for his young aide. Lee handed them glasses of milk which they drank thirstily. “You'll find an aide of mine in the next room,” said General Lee to Harry. “He's a little older than you are but you should get along together.” Harry bowed and withdrew, and the aide, Charlie Gordon, gave him a hearty welcome. He was three or four years Harry's senior, something of a scholar, but frank and open. When they had exchanged names, Gordon said: “Stretch out a bit on this old sofa. You look tired. You've been riding a long distance. How many miles have you come?” “I don't know,” replied Harry, as he lay luxuriously on the sofa, “but we started at one o'clock this morning and it is now three o'clock in the afternoon.” “Fourteen hours. It's like what we've been hearing of Stonewall Jackson. I took a peep at him from the window as you rode up.” “I suppose you didn't see much but dust.” “They certainly tell extraordinary things of General Jackson. It can't be possible that all are true!”