"So why are you sitting here looking west, Hunt, rather than with your guns?" Henry smiled. "Curious." "So am I."

"Hard to tell, but it does look like some dust stirring up out beyond that next ridge," Henry noted. "You look close and you can see some Reb skirmishers along that second ridge." Even as he spoke he noticed a bit more dust, a plume rising up from behind the ridge.

Sickles raised his own field glasses and stared intently for a moment.

"Where's General Warren?" Henry asked. "He's the chief topographical engineer. I thought Meade sent him down here to take a look."

"Up on the next hill," Sickles said, pointing toward the large, wooded hill-the Big Round Top, locals called it- that was to their left.

Henry turned his glasses and saw where the Signal Corps had established itself, building a perch halfway up a large tree. There was an occasional fluttering of flags. He had thought about trying to work a battery up that mountain, but a quick survey showed it would have required an entire regiment of men, armed with axes, to clear the way and open out a field of fire. If the battle did spread out there, it would have to be an infantry fight.

"I've got a good regiment up there," Sickles announced, "Second Sharpshooters supporting that signal station. They're tied into a signal station down at Emmitsburg."

"Wonder why Buford down there doesn't push out a bit to the west and see what's up?"

"Go ask Meade," Dan replied. "I just got word from Buford that he's pulling out Relieved from the field to head back to Westminster to refit after the fight"

"What?"

"One of his staff came up about thirty minutes ago to tell me. They're going down to Taneytown." "Who's replacing them?"

"I am. I'm sending down Berdan's men, First Sharpshooters." "No cavalry?" "Nope."

"Strange, no cavalry on our flank. There's nothing between us and Emmitsburg, is there?" Henry asked.

"My men were the last unit out of there late yesterday. Nothing between us and the Potomac except for the Signal Corps and a regiment or two of cavalry that came in behind us last night"

Henry lowered his glasses and took another puff on his cigar. "I'd better get back to headquarters. My batteries look like they're moving in fine up here."

"My batteries, Hunt Remember, the corps commander has direct control of his battalion of guns. You just advise."

Henry bristled and looked over at Sickles. The politician turned general smiled.

"Relax, Hunt You do good work."

"Thanks."

Sickles looked past Henry. "Ah, here comes Warren. Good man, commanded a regiment under me before moving up to headquarters."

Henry looked back over his shoulder. Maj. Gen. Gouvenor Warren, puffing hard, was laboriously walking up the steep slope, trailed by several of his staff.

"A good man even though he's West Point, too?" Henry offered.

"Sometimes it doesn't ruin a man completely. Warren has a good eye for ground."

"West Point training," Henry could not help but say. "You don't learn how to read groundwork wandering around Manhattan."

Sickles chuckled. "Hunt, I might actually like you. You've got guts."

Warren, breathing audibly, approached Sickles, while calling for one of his staff to fetch their mounts. "Feel like a mountain goat going up and down these hills," Warren offered, as he saluted.

"Have a cigar, Gouvernor."

Warren waved the offer off. "I think something is up," Warren announced, bending over slightly to catch his breath.

"Signal from Emmitsburg reports dust on the road that goes from Fairfield to Emmitsburg. Also, from up on that hill," and he pointed back to Big Round Top, "you can catch glimpses of some kind of movement, but too much dust to tell."

There was a flutter of signal flags from the perch atop the mountain even as Warren spoke.

Sickles turned and looked back to the west, meditatively chewing on his cigar. Henry uncorked his canteen and offered it to Warren, who nodded a thanks and took a long drink.

"Day's going to get hot real quick," Warren offered. "Maybe we should ask Buford to go over to that next ridge and take a look around."

"Buford is pulling off the line, going back to refit"

Warren sighed, looking back to the west. "Might be nothing. Still think we should take a look."

'I'll send Berdan up, give him a regiment for additional support" Sickles announced.

Henry looked over at the general. "Sir, I remember hearing your orders were to dig in along this line, not to push for-" ward."

Sickles just looked over and grinned. "Hunt, when you get back to headquarters, tell his High Almighty that we might have a problem developing. Also, I think we should put a little more strength down forward, into that peach orchard by the road to Emmitsburg. This hill's a good spot, but my right flank is on low land, no clear fields of fire. If we move out to that orchard and the next ridge, we'll have a better position in case something is developing."

"Sir, orders were to deploy along this line," Warren observed. "I was sent here to survey this position for defense, not half a mile forward."

Sickles grinned, saying nothing.

Henry nodded. "I'll report it," Henry finally offered.

"I'll ride with you, Hunt," Warren announced.

"Hunt, take an extra one," Sickles said, and he produced another cigar and tossed it over. "One of my old constituents keeps me supplied."

Henry nodded his thanks, and with Warren by his side they struggled up to the crest. Their mutual staffs were already mounted, and Henry wearily swung into the saddle. For a moment he was disoriented, not sure which way to go. He had come up this way before dawn, and the lack of sleep left him feeling light-headed, dizzy.

"This way, Hunt," Warren said, and they started down the slope.

Henry looked back over his shoulder. Sickles was deep in conversation with an officer wearing the distinctive green uniform of the Sharpshooters.

‘I don't trust him," Warren announced.

"Who? Sickles?"

"Exactly. He hates Meade. He most likely vented it on you the same as he did me. It'd be like Sickles to go off half-cocked."

"Do you think something is up?"

"I came up here to survey the land, Hunt, same way you came up here to lay the guns."

"Still, after what happened last night, Lee won't back off. Not now." Even as he said the words, Henry thought of Sick-les's comment that we danced to Lee's tune.

"I need some sleep, Warren. Let's just hope nothing happens."

"Where do you think it will happen? Frankly, I hope Lee tries to take those two hills. With Sickles's corps on top, it will be a damn killing ground, just like last night"

Last night The memory of the rebel flag bearer cut in half, the carnage piled up in front of his guns.

"Where do you think it will hit?" Henry asked.

"South," Warren sighed. "This place is too good. He won't do us the favor of coming straight in. I think he's moving south and coming around our flank,"

"Sgt Major Quinn!"

Sgt Maj. Michael Quinn, First United States Sharpshooters, knew something was up. Colonel Berdan had come riding into their camp at the base of the rocky hill, shouting for an officers' meeting.

Tossing what was left of his coffee on the ground, Quinn started over to where the officers of the regiment were gathered in a circle around Colonel Berdan. There was no need to be told; the regiment was going out

Captains were breaking away from the group, shouting orders, as Quinn approached Berdan and saluted.

"Quinn, we're ordered to do a reconnaissance in force. I'll be at the center of the line. I want you down by the right flank. Sickles thinks there's something going on a couple of miles to our front So push in and don't let any of the boys wander about I want us to go in there hard and fast"