"I like the nights for rest," said Langdon, "but it could be worse;
I've had four hours' sleep anyway."

"You'll have no more this night, that's certain," said St. Clair.
"Look, General Jackson, himself, is going with us. See him climbing
upon Little Sorrel! Lord pity the foot cavalry!"

General Jackson, mounted upon the sorrel horse destined to become so
famous, rode to the head of the brigade, which was now in ranks, and
beckoned to Harry.

"I've decided to attend to this affair myself, Lieutenant Kenton,"
he said. "Keep by my side. You know the way. Be sure that you lead
us right."

His voice was not raised, but his words had an edge of steel. The cold
blue eyes swept him with a single chilly glance and Harry felt the fear
of God in his soul. Lead them right? His faculties could not fail with
Stonewall Jackson by his side.

The general himself gave the word, the brigade swung into the broad road
and it marched. It did not dawdle along. It marched, and it marched
fast. It actually seemed to Harry after the first mile that it was
running, running toward the enemy.

Not in vain had the infantry of Stonewall Jackson been called foot
cavalry. Harry now for the first time saw men really march. The road
spun behind them and the forest swept by. They were nearly all open-air
Virginians, long of limb, deep of chest and great of muscle. There was
no time for whispering among them, and the exchange of guesses about