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well armed and with the finest artillery that ever thundered into battle. We're bound to win."

"If McClellan can whip him, sir?"

"Yes, of course, he's got to do that," was the thoughtful answer. "And you know I believe he'll do it. McClellan's on his mettle now. His army will fight like tigers to show their faith in him. and ambitious, yes-many great men are. a mighty human motive."

He's vain Ambition's

"I'm afraid it's bad diplomacy, sir, to go to his house like this-he is vain, you know," the younger man observed with a frown.

"Tut, tut, Boy, it's no time for ceremony. Who cares a copper!"

The clock in the church tower struck ten as Hay sprang up the steps and rang the bell.

"I hope he hasn't gone to bed," the Secretary said. "At ten o'clock ?" the President laughed, "a great general about to march on the most important campaign of his life-hardly."

The straight orderly saluted and ushered them into the elegant reception room-the room so often graced by the Prince de Joinville and the Comte de Paris, of the General's staff.

The orderly sniffed the air in a superior butler style:

"The General has not come in yet, gentlemen." "We'll wait," was the President's quick response. They sat in silence and the minutes dragged.

The young Secretary, in rising wrath, looked again and again at the clock.

"Don't be so impatient, John," the quiet, even voice said. "Great bodies move slowly, they say-come

here and sit down-I'll tell you a secret. The Cabinet knows it and you can, too."

He leaned his giant figure forward in his chair and touched an official document which he had drawn from

his pocket.

"Great events hang on this battle. I've written out here a challenge to mortal combat for all our foes, North, South, East and West. I'm going to free the slaves if we win this battle and we're sure to win < it" it

Hay glanced at the door with a startled look.

"McClellan and I don't agree on this subject and he mightn't fight as well if he knew it. It's a thing of doubtful wisdom at its best to hurl this challenge into the face of my foe. But the time has come and it must be done. We have made no headway in this war, and we must crush the South to end it. If the Copperhead leaders should get control of the Democratic party because of it-well, it means trouble at home. Douglas is dead and the jackal is trying to wear the lion's skin. He may succeed, but then I must risk it. I'll lose some good soldiers from the army but I've got to do it. All I'm waiting for now is a victory on which to launch my thunderbolt"

A key clicked in the front door and the quick, firm step of McClellan echoed through the hall.

The orderly was reporting his distinguished visitor. They could hear his low words, and the sharp answer.

The General mounted the stairs and entered the front room overhead. He was there, of course, to arrange his toilet. He was a stickler for handsome clothes, spotless linen and the last detail of ceremony. Again the minutes dragged. The tick of the clock

on the mantel rang through the silent room and the face of the younger man grew red with rage.

Unable to endure the insolence of a subordinate toward the great Chieftain, whom he loved with a boy's blind devotion, Hay sprang to his feet:

"Let's go, sir!"

The big hand was quietly raised in a gesture of command and he sank into his seat.

Five minutes more passed and the sound of approaching footsteps were heard quickly, firmly pressed with military precision.

The President nodded:

"You see, my son!"

But instead of the General the handsome figure of his aide, John Vaughan, appeared in the doorway:

"The General begs me to say, Mr. President, that he is too much fatigued to see any one this evening and has retired for the night."

The orderly stepped pompously to the door to usher them out and John Vaughan bowed and returned to his commander.

Hay sprang to his feet livid with rage and spoke to his Chief with boyish indignation.

"You are not going to take this insult from him?" The tall figure slowly rose and stood in silence. "Remove him from his command," the younger man pleaded. "For God's sake do it now. Write the order for his removal this minute-give it to me! I'll kick his door open and hand it to him."

The deep set dreamy eyes were turned within as he said in slow intense tones:

"No-I'll hold McClellan's horse for him if he'll give us one victory!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE BLOODIEST DAY

The struggle opened with disaster for the Union army. Though Lee's plan of campaign fell by accident into McClellan's hands, it was too late to frustrate the first master stroke. Relying on Jackson's swift, bewildering marches, Lee, in hostile territory and confronted by twice his numbers, suddenly divided his army and hurled Jackson's corps against Harper's Ferry. The garrison, after a futile struggle of two days, surrendered twelve thousand five hundred and twenty men and their vast stores of war material.

The contrast between General White, the Federal officer in command who surrendered, and Jackson, his conquerer, was strikingly dramatic. The Union General rode a magnificent black horse, was carefully dressed in shining immaculate uniform-gloves, boots and sword spotless. The Confederate General sat carelessly on his little shaggy sorrel, dusty, travelstained and carelessly dressed.

The curiosity of the Union army which had surrendered was keen to see the famous fighter. The entire twelve thousand prisoners of war lined the road as Jackson silently rode by.

A voice from the crowd expressed the universal feeling as they gazed:

"Boys, he ain't much for looks, but, by God, if

we'd had him we wouldn't have been caught in this trap!"

The first shock of Lee's and McClellan's armies was at South Mountain, where the desperate effort was made to break through and save Harper's Ferry. The attempt failed, though the Union forces won the fight. Lee lost twenty-seven hundred men, killed and wounded and prisoners, and the Federal general, twenty-one hundred.

Lee withdrew to Sharpsburg on the banks of the Antietam to meet Jackson's victorious division sweeping toward him from Harper's Ferry.

On the first day the Confederate commander made a display of force only, awaiting the alignment of Jackson's troops. His men were so poorly shod and clothed they could not be brought into line of battle. When the fateful day of September 17th, 1862, dawned, still and clear and beautiful over the hills of Maryland, more than twenty thousand of Lee's men had fallen by the roadside barefooted and exhausted. When the first roar of McClellan's artillery opened fire in the grey dawn, they hurled their shells against less than thirty-seven thousand men in the Confederate lines. The Union commander had massed eighty-seven thousand tried veterans behind his guns.

The President received the first news of the battle with a thrill of exultation. That Lee's ragged, footsore army hemmed in thus with Antietam Creek on one side and the broad, sweeping Potomac on the other would be crushed and destroyed he could not doubt for a moment.

As the sun rose above the eastern hills a gleaming dull-red ball of blood, the Federal infantry under

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