from his soul. He had ceased to
hate the Northern soldiers, if he had ever hated them at all. Now
they were merely brave opponents, with whom he contended, and success
demanded of either skill, daring and energy to the utmost degree. He was
resolved not to fail in any of these qualities.

He left the desolate house a mile behind, and then the river curved a
little. The woods on the farther shore came down in dense masses to the
edge of the stream, and despite the lack of foliage Harry could not see
far into them. The strong, inherited instincts leaped up. His nostrils
expanded and a warning note was sounded somewhere in the back of his
brain.

He turned his horse to the left and entered the forest on his own side
of the river. They were ancient trees that he rode among, with many
drooping and twisted boughs, and he was concealed well, although he
could yet see from his covert the river and the forest on the other
shore.

The song of a trumpet suddenly came from the deep woodland across the
shining stream. It was a musical song, mellow and triumphant on every
key, and the forest and hills on either shore gave it back, soft and
beautiful on its dying echoes. It seemed to Harry that the volume of
sound, rounded and full, must come from a trumpet of pure gold. He had
read the old romances of the Round Table, and for the moment his
head was full of them. Some knight in the thicket was sending forth a
challenge to him.

But Harry gave no answering defiance. Now the medieval glow was gone,
and he was modern and watchful to the core. He had felt instinctively
that it was a trumpet of the foe, and the Northern trumpets were not
likely to sing there in Virginia unless many Northern horsemen rode
together.

Then he saw their arms glinting among the trees, the brilliant beams of
the sun dancing on the polished steel of saber hilt and rifle barrel.
A minute more, and three hundred Union horsemen emerged from the forest
and rode, in beautiful order, down to the edge of the stream.

Harry regarded them with an admiration which was touched by no hate.
They were heavily built, strong young men, riding powerful horses, and
it was easy for anyone to see that they had been drilled long and well.
Their clothes and arms were in perfect order, every horse had been
tended as if it were to be entered in a ring for a prize. It was his
thought that they were not really enemies, but worthy foes. That ancient
spirit of the tournament, wher