into which the great tobacco barn had been turned.
Two competent surgeons attended to them by the light of candles, while
the garrison outside lay still and waiting under the heavy fire.

"A waste of lead," said Sherburne to Harry. "They reckon, perhaps, that
we're all recruits, and will be frightened into retreat or surrender."

"If we had those guns now we could clear out the woods in short order,"
said Harry.

"And if they had 'em they could soon blow up this barn, everything in it
and a lot of us at the same time. So we are more than even on the matter
of the lack of guns."

The fire from the wood died in about fifteen minutes and was succeeded
by a long and trying silence. The light of the moon deepened, and
silvered the faces of the dead lying in the open. All the survivors of
the attack were hidden, but the defenders knew that they were yet in the
forest.

"Kenton," said Captain Sherburne, "you know the way to General Jackson's
camp at Winchester."

"I've been over it a dozen times."

"Then you must mount and ride. This force is sitting down before us for
a siege, and it probably has pickets about the village, but you must
get through somehow. Bring help! The Yankees are likely to send back for
help, too, but we've got to win here."

"I'm off in five minutes," said Harry, "and I'll come with a brigade by
dawn."

"I believe you will," said Sherburne. "But get to Old Jack! Get there!
If you can only reach him, we're saved! He may not have any horsemen at
hand, but his foot cavalry can march nearly as fast! Lord, how Stonewall
Jackson can cover ground!"

Their hands met in the hearty grasp of a friendship which was already
old and firm, and Harry, without looking back, slipped into the wood,
where the men from the village were watching over the horses. Sherburne
had told him to take any horse he needed, but he chose his own,
convinced that he had no equal, slipped into the saddle, and rode to the
edge of the wood.

"There's a creek just back of us; you can see the water shining through
the break in the trees," said a man who kept the village store. "The
timber's pretty thick along it, and you'd best keep in its shelter.
Here, you Tom, show him the way."

A boy of fourteen stepped up to the horse's head.

"My son," said the storekeeper. "He knows every inch of the ground."

But Harry waved him back.

"No," he said. "I'll be shot at, and the boy on foot can't escape. I'll
find my way through. No, I