es urged Jackson off the turnpike, where he was a
fair target for the rifles whenever there was light, and into the bushes
beside it. They were just in time, as the night was illuminated an
instant later by cannon flashes and then a shower of bullets swept the
road where Jackson and his staff had been.

Harry thought that they would stop now, but he did not yet know fully
his Stonewall Jackson. He ordered up another Virginia regiment, which,
reckless of death, charged straight in front, crossed the creek and
drove the men in blue out of their position.

Yet the Northern troops, men from Massachusetts, refused to be routed.
They fell back in good order, carrying their guns with them, and
stopping at intervals to fire with cannon and rifles at their pursuers.
Jackson and his staff spurred through the Opequon. Water and mud flew in
Harry's face, but he did not notice them. He was eager to be up with the
first, because Jackson was still urging on the pursuit, even far into
the night. Banks with his main force had escaped him for the time, but
he did not mean that the Northern commander should make his retreat at
leisure.

Harry had never passed through such a night. It contained nothing but
continuous hours of pursuit and battle. The famous foot cavalry had
marched nearly twenty miles that day, they had fought a hard combat
that afternoon, and they were still fighting. But Jackson allowed not a
moment's delay. He was continually sending messengers to regiments and
companies to hurry up, always to hurry up, faster, and faster and yet
faster.

Harry carried many such messages. In the darkness and the confusion
his clothing was half torn off him by briars and bushes. His horse fell
twice, stumbling into gulleys, but fortunately neither he nor his rider
was injured. Often he was compelled to rein up suddenly lest he ride
over the Southern lads themselves. All around him he heard the panting
of men pushed to the last ounce of their strength, and often there was
swearing, too. Once in the darkness he heard the voice of a boy cry out:

"Oh, Lord, have mercy on me and let me go to Hades! The Devil will have
mercy on me, but Stonewall Jackson never will!"

Harry did not laugh, nor did he hear anyone else laugh. He had expressed
the opinion that many of them held at that moment. Stonewall Jackson was
driving them on in the darkness and the light that he furnished them was
a flaming sword. It was worse to shirk and face him, tha