apologetically at the rich cloth and gold braid he wore. His eyes
seemed to say, "Boys, I've merely put these on in honor of the victory
we're going to win. But I won't do it again."

Then the cheers burst forth, spontaneous and ringing, proving a devotion
that few men have ever been able to command. Stern and unflinching as
Jackson invariably was in inflicting punishment, his soldiers always
regarded him as one of themselves, the best man among them, one fitted
by nature to lead democratic equals. After the cheers were over they
watched him as he looked through the glasses from his new position.
But he stayed there only a minute or two, going back then to his old
point of vantage.

Harry meanwhile had reached Stuart, who, mounted upon a magnificent
horse and clad in a uniform that fairly glittered through the fog itself,
was waiting restlessly. But he had not changed any part of his line.
Everything remained exactly as Jackson had ordered. He now knew Harry
well and always called him by his first name.

"Have you an order?" he exclaimed eagerly. "Does General Jackson want
us to advance?"

"He has said nothing about an advance," replied Harry tactfully.
"He merely wanted me to ride down the line and report to him on the
spirit of the soldiers as far as I could judge. He knew that your men,
General, would be hard to hold."

Stuart threw back his head, shook his long yellow hair and laughed in a
pleased way.