Virginians."

"The Virginians filled up the gaps that were made on the battlefield."

Harry spoke proudly, and the young captain smiled. The boy regarded
him with increasing interest. Somehow he was reminded of Jeb Stuart,
although this man was younger, not having passed his boyhood long.

It was evident that he was tall. Thick, yellow curls showed from under
the edge of his cap. His face, like Harry's, had turned red before wind
and rain. His dress was a marvel, made of the finest gray without a spot
or stain. A sash of light blue silk encircled his waist, and the costly
gray cloak thrown back a little from his shoulders revealed a silk lining
of the same delicate blue tint. His gauntlets were made of the finest
buckskin, and a gold-hilted small sword swung from his sash.

"A dandy," thought Harry, "but the bravest of the brave, for all that."

"My name's Sherburne, Captain Philip Sherburne," said the young leader.
"I'm from the Valley of Virginia, and so are my men. We belong to
Stonewall Jackson's army, too, but we've been away most of the time on
scouting duty. That's the reason you don't know us. We're going toward
Winchester, after another of our fruitless rides."

"But it won't be fruitless this time!" exclaimed Harry, eagerly. "A
Union force of nearly a thousand men is on its way to destroy the stores
at the village, the stores that were to be moved to a safer place
to-morrow!"

"How do you know?"