"About two hundred men. They are strangers to the region, drawn from the
Tidewater country, and I don't think they're as good as most of General
Jackson's men."

"Lack of discipline, you think?"

"Yes, but the material is fine."

"All right. Then we'll see that they acquire discipline. Nothing like
the enemy's fire to teach men what war is."

They were riding at good speed toward the village, while they talked,
and Harry had become at once the friend and lieutenant of young Captain
Sherburne. His manner was so pleasant, so intimate, so full of charm,
that he did not have the power or the will to resist it.

They soon saw Hertford, a village so little that it was not able to put
itself on the map. It stood on the crest of a low hill, and the tobacco
barn was about as large as all the other buildings combined. The
twilight had now merged into night, but there was a bright sky and plenty
of stars, and they saw well.

Captain Sherburne stopped his troop at a distance of three or four
hundred yards, while they were still under cover of the forest.

"What's the name of the commander there?" he asked.

"McGee," Harry replied. "Means well, but rather obstinate."

"That's the way with most of these untrained men. We mustn't risk being