"General!"

The voice came like an echo. Then at the door appeared the gigantic,
black-bearded Lieutenant Hagan, chief of the general's escort. Have you
forgotten him, my dear reader?--his huge figure, his mighty beard, the
deep thunder of his tones? I showed you the brave soldier in 1861 and
'62. In 1863 his beard was heavier, his voice more like thunder--when
the giant walked along he seemed to shake the ground.

"I am going to move in half an hour, Hagan," said Stuart, still writing
busily. "Head-quarters will be established on Fleetwood Hill, beyond
Brandy; my horse!"

Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes the
camp was buzzing, and "Lady Margaret" was led up.

"Come on, Surry! Come on, Davenant! I will beat you to the
Court-House!"

And Stuart buckled on his sword, drew on his gauntlets, and mounted his
horse. I was beside him. Not to be ready when Stuart was--was to be
left behind. He waited for nobody. His staff soon learned that.

As Davenant's horse was awaiting him, he was as prompt as Stuart
desired. In a minute we were all three riding at full speed toward the
village. Stuart was playing with his glove, which he had taken off and
dangled to and fro. His brows were knit, and he was reflecting. We did
not interrupt him, and in ten minutes we were all clattering over the
main street of the hamlet.