road. Then he heard the sounds more plainly. They were made by cavalry,
riding slowly. The great pulses in his throat leaped in quick alarm.
Was it possible that they had sent a portion of their force swiftly by
another route, and that it was now between him and the village?

He listened again and with every faculty strained. The cavalrymen were
riding toward him and they could not be a part of the Union force.
Then they must be of his own South. Surely this was the happy chance
of which he had dreamed! Again the great pulses leaped, but with a
different emotion.

Scorning every risk, he reined his horse back into the road and rode
straight forward. The heads of men were just topping the rise, and a
few moments later they and the horses they bestrode came into full view.
It was a thankful thrill that shot through him now. The sun, almost sunk,
sent a last golden shower across them and disclosed the dingy gray of
their uniforms and the lean, tanned faces.

Uttering a shout of joy and holding up a hand to show that he was a
friend, Harry galloped forward. A young man at the head of the troop,
a captain by his uniform, and evidently the leader, gave the signal to
his men to stop, and received the boy who came alone.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Harry Kenton, a lieutenant in the army of Stonewall Jackson, and an
aide on the staff of Colonel Leonidas Talbot, colonel of the regiment
known as the Invincibles."

"I've heard of that regiment. South Carolinians at first, but now mostly