He would have caught the attention of anybody,
owing to his great height and splendid head crowned with snow-white
hair. He was old, but he walked as if he were one who had achieved
greatly, and was conscious of it.
"It's Old Fuss and Feathers his very self," said Whitley.
"General Scott. It can be no other," said Dick, who had divined at once
the man's identity. His eyes followed the retreating figure with the
greatest interest. This was the young hero of the War of 1812 and the
great commander who had carried the brilliant campaign into the capital
of Mexico. He had been the first commander-in-chief of the Northern
army, and, foreseeing the great scale of the coming war, had prepared
a wide and cautious plan. But the public had sneered at him and had
demanded instant action, the defeat at Bull Run being the result.
Dick felt pity for the man who was forced to bear a blame not his own,
and who was too old for another chance. But he knew that the present
cloud would soon pass away, and that he would be remembered as the man
of Chippewa and Chapultepec.
"McClellan is already here to take his place," said Whitley. "He's
the young fellow who has been winning successes in the western part of
Virginia, an' they say he has genius."
Only a day or two later they saw McClellan walking down the same avenue
with the President. Dick had never beheld a more striking contrast.
The President was elderly, of great height, his head surmounted by a
high silk hat which made him look yet taller, while his face was long,
melancholy, and wrinkled deeply.
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