Jake's mental motions were reasonably rapid. Now he was not long
in realizing that all the danger was past, and that he had an
opportunity of gaining credit cheaply. He acted promptly. Fixing
his bayonet, he gave a fearful yell and started forward on a run
for the position which the regiment had gained.

He was soon in the lead of the pursuers, and appeared, by his
later zeal, to be making amends for his earlier tardiness. As he
ran ahead he shouted savagely:

"Run down the hellions! Shoot 'em! Stab 'em! Bay'net 'em! Don't
let one of 'em git away."

There is an excitement in a man-chase that is not even approached
by any other kind of hunting, and Jake soon became fairly intoxicated
with it.

He quickly overtook one or two of the slower-paced Rebels, who
surrendered quietly, and were handed by him over to the other boys
as they came up, and conducted by them to the rear.

Becoming more excited he sped on, entirely unmindful of how far he
was outstripping his comrades.

A hundred yards ahead of him was a tall, gaunt Virginian, clad
in butternut-colored jeans of queer cut and pattern, and a great
bell-crowned hat of rough, gray beaver. Though his gait was shambling
and his huge splay feet rose and fell in the most awkward way, he
went over the ground with a swiftness that made it rather doubtful