The smoke from the cannon, whitish in color, drifted away down the river with the fog, and the whole spectacle still remained in the brilliant sunlight.
Harry's respect for the Union artillery, already high, increased yet further.

The field was now mostly open, where all could see, and the gunners not only saw their targets, but were able to take good aim.
The storm of shot and shell from Stafford Heights was frightful.
It seemed to Harry--again his imagination was alive--that the very air was darkened by the rush of steel.

Despite their earthworks and other shelter the Southern troops began to suffer from that dreadful sleet, but the little conference on Lee's Hill went on.
Longstreet, sitting his horse steadily, looked long at the dense masses below.
"General," he said to General Jackson, "doesn't that myriad of Yankees frighten you ?" "It won't be long before we see whether we shall frighten them," replied Jackson.
General Lee said a few words, and then Jackson and Longstreet returned to their respective divisions, Jackson, as Harry noted, showing not the least excitement, although the resolute Union general, Franklin, with nearly sixty thousand men and one hundred and twenty guns, was marching directly against his own position.
But Harry felt excitement, and much of it.

In front of Jackson in a great line of battle, a mile and a half long, they were moving forward, still in perfect array.

But there was something wanting in that huge army.