"Thanks," said Harry, and leading his horse he reached the knoll, to find
the rifleman's statement correct. Sherburne was kneeling behind some
bushes, trying with the aid of glasses and moonlight to pick out the
enemy.

"That you, Harry?" he said, glancing back.

"Yes, Captain. The general has sent me to see what you and the rest of
you noisy fellows are doing."

"Shooting across a creek at an enemy who first shot at us. It's only
under provocation that we've roused the general and his staff from sleep.
Use your glasses and see what you can make out in those bushes on the
other side! Keep down, Harry! For Heaven's sake keep down! That bullet
didn't miss you more than three inches. You wouldn't be much loss to the
army, of course, but you're my personal friend."

"Thanks for your advice. I intend to stay so far down that I'll lie
almost flat."

He meant to keep his word, too. The warning had been a stern one.
Evidently the sharpshooters who lay in the thickets on the Union side of
the creek were of the first quality.

"There's considerable moonlight," whispered Sherburne, "and you mustn't
expose an inch of your face. I take it that we have Custer's cavalry
over there, mixed with a lot of scouts and skirmishers from the Northwest,
Michigan and Wisconsin, most likely. They're the boys who can use the
rifles in the woods. Had to do it before they came here, and they're a
bad lot to go up against."