Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Medal of Honor: A Story of Peace and War
T was nearly time for parade. The drum major in his tall lynx-skin shako was already marshaling the band in the hollow north of Trophy Point, prepara tory to the march over to camp. The sun had sunk behind the westward heights, but was still glinting from cornice and window among the scattered summer home steads across the Hudson and taking a last peep through the rift of Washington's Valley. Even the snowy tents of the battalion, pitched at the eastward verge of the cavalry plain, were deep in shadow, though the whis pering crests of the leafy square that hemmed the little white city, as well as the dense cluster in the heart of Old Fort Clinton, were all agleam in the golden light. The pathway from the south porch of the hotelhleading straight away through the hedge, to the visitors' tent, was dotted by little groups of men and women sauntering campward for the closing ceremony of the day, yet here, perched on the piazzas commanding good views of the broad thoroughfare from the south, straight as a die from the grim Old Academic, and the curving road from the west skirting the northward edge of the plateau - here 3.
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