File upon file, company after company, regiment following regiment,
they swung sternly by. Scarcely so much as a word reached us, excepting
now and then some briefly muttered command to close up, or a half-
inaudible curse as a shuffling foot stumbled. I could distinguish no
badge, no insignia of either corps or division; the circling dust
enveloped them in a choking, disfiguring cloud. But they were
Confederates! I marked them well; here and there along the toiling
ranks I even noted a familiar face, and there could be no mistaking the
gaunt North Carolina mountaineer, the sallow Georgian, or the jaunty
Louisiana Creole. They were Confederates--Packer's Division of Hill's
corps, I could have almost sworn--east-bound on forced march, and I
doubted not that each cross-road to left and right of us would likewise
show its hurrying gray column, sturdily pressing forward. The veteran
fighting men of the left wing of the Army of Northern Virginia were
boldly pushing eastward to keep their tryst with Lee. The despatch
intrusted to my care had been borne safely to Longstreet.

The keen joy of it lighted up my face, and Brennan turning toward me as
the last limping straggler disappeared over the ridge, saw it, and grew
white with anger.

"You Rebel cur!" he cried fiercely, in his sudden outburst of passion,
"what does all this mean? Where is that division bound?"

"Some change in Longstreet's front, I should judge," I answered coolly,
too happy even to note his slur.

"You know better," he retorted hotly. "The way those fellows march
tells plainly enough that they have covered all of fifteen miles since
daybreak. It is a general movement, and, by Heaven! you shall answer