"Thomas, I regret to tell you that inquiry can be pushed to the point of vulgarity. I have been content with things as they were, and so should you be. Ah, there are our brave boys singing that noble battle song of the South! Listen how it swells! It shows a spirit unconquerable!" Along the great battle front swelled the mighty chorus: "Come brothers! Rally for the right! The bravest of the brave Sends forth her ringing battle cry Beside the Atlantic wave! She leads the way in honor's path; Come brothers, near and far, Come rally round the bonnie blue flag That bears a single star." "A fine song! A fine song most truly," said Colonel Talbot. "It heartens one gloriously!" But Harry, usually so quick to respond, strangely enough felt depression. He felt suddenly in all its truth that they had not only failed in their invasion, but the escape of the army was yet a matter of great doubt. The mood was only momentary, however, and he joined with all his heart as the mighty chorus rolled out another verse: "Now Georgia marches to the front And beside her come Her sisters by the Mexique sea With pealing trump and drum, Till answering back from hill and glen The rallying cry afar, A Nation hoists the bonnie blue flag That bears a single star!" They sang it all through, and over again, and then, after a little silence, came the notes of a trumpet from a far-distant point. It was played by powerful lungs and the wind was blowing their way but they heard it distinctly. It was a quaint syncopated tune, but not one of the Invincibles had any doubt that it came from some daring detachment of the Union Army. The notes with their odd lilt seemed to swell through the forest, but it was strange to both of the colonels. "Do any of you know it?" asked Colonel Talbot. All shook their heads except Harry. "What is it, Harry?" asked Talbot. "It's a famous poem, sir, the music of which has not often been heard, but I can translate from music into words the verse that has just been played: "In their ragged regimentals Stood the old Continentals Yielding not, When the grenadiers were lunging And like hail fell the plunging Cannon shot; When the files of the isles From the smoky night encampment Bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn And grummer, grummer, Rolled the roll of the drummer, Through the morn!" The bugler played on. It was the same tune, curious, syncopated and piercing the night shrilly. Whole brigades of the South stood in silence to listen. "What do you think is its meaning?" asked Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire.