There was no tree above the heads of Noel and Dennis, and as they lay looking up at the stars, for the first time in twenty-four hours the tired boys were able to think of the experiences they had undergone. Within a space of four square miles two hundred thousand men were lying. Some of them were stiff and stark and with sightless eyes were looking up into the pitying heavens. Some were stretched on beds in the improvised hospitals or lying wounded and bleeding under the trees. Others, even in their sleep, are clasping the deadly weapons with which on the morrow they are expecting to renew the awful scenes of the day. It was long before daylight the following morning when the little hill upon which Noel and Dennis had been sleeping was alive with men preparing their simple breakfasts and getting ready for the fighting of the coming day. Somehow there was a feeling of confidence among the soldiers that the day was to be marked with victory. They now had every opportunity to drive the rebels into the Potomac, or perhaps to capture their entire army. But when sunrise came and hour after hour passed without any orders to advance, gradually a feeling of bitter disappointment took possession of the men. The day dragged on, the batteries still remained in position, and the infantry still were resting on their arms. In the position held by the enemy silence brooded throughout the day. It was nearly dark when orders came to be ready for action at sunrise on the morrow. With such information the growlers ceased their complaints and there was a common hope that the enemy would not escape. "'Tis only put off one day," said Dennis. "We'll either drive the Johnnies into the Potomac or carry them with us back to Washington." The following day the men were aroused at three o'clock in the morning. There was no haste in the orders or in the movements of the men. They ate their breakfast and drank their coffee, and then all made ready for battle. But again the hours passed and there was no decisive action. At eight o'clock it was learned that the Confederates had slipped away and had withdrawn across the Potomac, and doubtless by this time were safely in Virginia. The river into which the Union soldiers had believed they would drive their enemies had now become the best defense of Lee's army. The battles of South Mountain and Antietam were robbed of any decisive significance. It is true that Lee's advance into the North was blocked, and that he was compelled to turn back to defend the rebel capital, but he had shown his skill by successfully evading his foes and at the same time protecting his army as he withdrew. The following day was Sunday. All signs of storms had passed, and not since the Union army had departed from Washington had finer marching weather been seen.