The President turned with a gesture of impatience to an older man, dust-covered and smoke-smeared. "Can you direct me to General Beauregard's headquarters?" "Beauregard's dead!" he shouted, rushing toward the train to board it for home. "Johnston's dead. Bee's dead. Bartow's dead. They're all dead--piled in heaps--fur ez ye eye kin see. Take my advice and get out of here quick." Without waiting for an answer he scrambled into the coach from which the President had alighted. The station swarmed now with shouting, gesticulating, panic-stricken men from the front. They crowded around the conductor. "Pull out of this!" "Crowd on steam!" "Save your engine and your train, man!" "And take us with you for God's sake!" The President pushed his way through the crowd. "I must go on, Conductor--the train is the only way to reach the field--" "I'm sorry, sir," the conductor demurred. "I'm responsible for the property of the railroad--" The panic-stricken men backed him up. "What's the use?" "The battle's lost!" "The whole army's wiped off the earth." "There's not a grease spot left!" The President confronted the trembling conductor: "Will you move your train?" "I can't do it, sir--" "Will you lend me your engine?" The conductor's face brightened. "I might do that." The engine was detached to the disgust of the panic-stricken men and the cool-headed engineer nodded to the President, pulled his lever and the locomotive shot out of the station and in five minutes Davis alighted with his staff near the battle field. By the guidance of stragglers they found headquarters. Adjutant General Jordan sent for horses and volunteered to conduct the President to the front. While they were waiting he turned to Mr. Davis anxiously: "I think it extremely unwise, sir, for you to take this risk." The thin lips smiled: "I'll take the responsibility, General." The President and his staff mounted and galloped toward the front. The stragglers came now in droves. They were generous in their warnings. "Say, men, do ye want to die?" "You're ridin' straight inter the jaws er death." "Don't do it, I tell ye!" The President began to rally the men. As they neared the front he was recognized and the wounded began to cheer. A big strapping soldier was carrying a slender wounded boy to the rear. The boy put his trembling hand on the man's shoulder, snatched off his cap and shouted: "Three cheers for the President! Look, boys, he's here--we'll lick 'em yet!" The President lifted his hat to the stripling, crying: "To a hero of the South!" The storm of battle was now rolling swiftly to the west--its roar growing fainter with each cannon's throb. The President, sitting his horse with erect tense figure, dashed up the hill to General Johnston: "How goes the battle, General?" "We have won, sir," was the sharp curt answer. [Illustration: "'We have won, sir!' was the short, curt answer."]