Wisps of fog drifted on the river, several gunboats in midstream, anchored. On the far shore a huge Confederate flag, their "unstained banner," which could, when lying flat, be mistaken for a flag of truce, was displayed from the side of a barn.

He wondered if that just might be an outpost Someone with a telescope could perhaps see what was going on here, yet another reason he had insisted that Lincoln, at least for once, not wear his distinctive top hat and black frock coat, covering himself with a cavalry poncho and a slouch cap.

The two walked to the back of the train. Without a platform it was a long step up, but Lincoln took it with ease, actually offering a hand back to the far shorter Ely, who was almost tempted to take it, but then pulled himself up. They got on board the car, which was empty except for the staff officer from the War Department who had come up several hours ahead to make the arrangements for the train.

"A good job, Major Wilkenson," Lincoln said. "All very cloak-and-dagger, something almost out of a play."

"It was the first good locomotive I could grab and get up here, sir. The engineer says she'll make sixty miles to the hour on the good track up toward Chester. The road ahead is being cleared, with the report there's several wounded generals on board."

"Very good."

"I'm sorry the arrangements are so spartan," Wilkenson said, gesturing around the car.

It was clear that the car had seen hard use in recent weeks. The chairs were simple wood; a stove stood at one end, a privy cabin at the other. As the major looked about, he noticed dark stains on the floor and many of the seats, and there was a faint odor of decay.

"Sorry, sir,"- Wilkenson said. "It just came back from taking wounded up to Wilmington, still hasn't been fully scrubbed out, but it was all I could find."

"That's no problem," Lincoln said softly.

The train lurched, whistle shrieking. After looking for a relatively clean seat, Lincoln sat down. He motioned for Ely to sit across from him.

Wilkenson stood silent for a few seconds, then said he was going forward to check with the engineer and come back with some rations.

For Ely it was a moment to finally sit back, one more hurdle jumped. Little had he dreamed this time yesterday that he would be escorting the president to meet Grant.

They had left Washington early in the afternoon, taking a gunboat down the Potomac and up the Chesapeake. Amazingly, they had slipped out of Washington without being noticed through a series of subterfuges and a report that the president had a mild dose of variola and had to be confined to bed and quarantine for several days.

Once aboard ship the president had retired to a cabin and within minutes was fast asleep, sleeping, in fact, for most of the journey. Ely, consumed with concern for the man he escorted, found he could not sleep.

The train was picking up speed, rails clicking, the car swaying as they went through a sweeping curve. To their right was the Susquehanna, at the moment still rebel territory on the far side.

Lincoln put his feet up on the seat and smiled.

"Now, Major, guess we have a long ride ahead. Please tell me everything about yourself, your tribe, how you came to wear the uniform."

"A long story, sir."

"We have plenty of time. You know, I sort of volunteered during the so-called Black Hawk War, nearly thirty years back. Glad as anything we didn't have to fight. Actually, my sympathies rested more with your side in that unfortunate affair."

"Well, sir, America is my country, too." Lincoln leaned over and patted him lightly on the knee. "I'm proud to hear that, Major. I wish we could all feel that way."

He leaned back, looking out the window. They were racing by an army encampment, survivors no doubt of Gunpowder River.

"So start your story, Major, and then, when you're done, I've got a few questions for you about General.Grant."

The train thundered on, racing through the switching yard that put them on the main track heading north toward Pennsylvania.

Baltimore

August 23,1863 7:00 A.M.

Wearily, Gen. Robert E. Lee swung his leg out of the stirrup. Trembling with exhaustion, he dismounted, grateful that Walter Taylor was holding his mount's bridle. He had left Traveler behind this morning to rest, borrowing an escort's mount to press the final miles into the city. The horse was feisty and skittish and had nearly thrown him when startled by a dog that had darted out of an alleyway to challenge possession of the road.

The city was quiet, provost guards out patrolling the streets, weary troops marching at route step down the main roads from the north, then turning to file west into their old encampment sites used prior to the start of the Gunpowder River campaign. The ranks were thin, thousands of men having fallen out during the last twenty-four hours from exhaustion, and again he had passed orders to deal lightly with such men.

Coming down the steps of the hotel flying the First Corps headquarters flag came Pete Longstreet. Pete had pushed on ahead at his request to ensure that the city was secure, and that no coordinated action might be coming from the Union garrison still occupying Fort McHenry down in the harbor.

"General, sir, good to see you," Pete said quietly, saluting. "Did you get some rest last night, sir?"

"Yes, actually I did."

He had stopped just south of Gunpowder River and was asleep within minutes. If he was to think this current situation through, he had to be sharper, and, besides, he felt secure with Pete heading back into the city while he slept.

"Things here in the town are secure, sir," Pete said. "Not a peep from the garrison down in the harbor."

"As I assumed. I doubt if General Grant could extend such control in a coordinated manner, but still it was a worry. Even a brief sally from the fort could have caused us problems."

"I talked with one of our citizens, a bit of an amateur spy, a minister who said he was in the fort last evening, under a pass to visit his brother, who is ill."

"He was under a pass?" Lee asked. "You know I don't like using such things for subterfuge."

"No one ordered him to do it, sir, from our army. He took it upon himself."

Lee hesitated, then nodded.

"Go on then."

"He said they were aware of Sickles being beaten, but had no word whatsoever of Grant moving." "Good."

"He said they were all rather demoralized down there. Especially with word we were coming back into the city. That's about it regarding the fort. Garrison is still several thousand strong, with reports of more troops, mostly marines in the gunboats just outside the harbor. But nothing unusual to report from that side."

"And what else, General?"

"A rider came over the South Mountains into Gettysburg just before dusk, reporting in from Chambersburg. He carried a report that strong Yankee columns were seen coming down the valley past Carlisle.

"And then a report that just came in a few minutes back. Scouts report sighting Union infantry camped last night at Dillsburg."

Lee stood silent, trying to remember the location.

"At least ten miles south of Carlisle, a route that could take them toward Hanover. Also, Custer was screening that movement."

"Any indication which corps it was?"

"Nothing on any of that, sir. They are keeping up a solid screen."

Good move on Grant's part the first day out, Lee thought. Blinds us and now moves in a shadow land to the north and west.

As they spoke they slowly walked into the hotel lobby in which Longstreet had set up. Jed Hotchkiss, the army cartographer who had ridden ahead with Longstreet, was there to greet them. A table was set up covered with maps, and Lee walked over to it, with Longstreet by his side.

"Well, Major Hotchkiss," Lee said, "I see you've-been busy again."