worse; I've
had four hours' sleep anyway."

"You'll have no more this night, that's certain," said St. Clair. "Look,
General Jackson, himself, is going with us. See him climbing upon Little
Sorrel! Lord pity the foot cavalry!"

General Jackson, mounted upon the sorrel horse destined to become so
famous, rode to the head of the brigade, which was now in ranks, and
beckoned to Harry.

"I've decided to attend to this affair myself, Lieutenant Kenton,"
he said. "Keep by my side. You know the way. Be sure that you lead us
right."

His voice was not raised, but his words had an edge of steel. The cold
blue eyes swept him with a single chilly glance and Harry felt the fear
of God in his soul. Lead them right? His faculties could not fail with
Stonewall Jackson by his side.

The general himself gave the word, the brigade swung into the broad
road and it marched. It did not dawdle along. It marched, and it marched
fast. It actually seemed to Harry after the first mile that it was
running, running toward the enemy.

Not in vain had the infantry of Stonewall Jackson been called foot
cavalry. Harry now for the first time saw men really march. The road
spun behind them and the forest swept by. They were nearly all open-air
Virginians, long of limb, deep of chest and great of muscle. There was
no time for whispering among them, and the exchange of guesses about
their destination. They needed every particle of air in their lungs for
the terrible man who made them march as men had seldom marched before.

Jackson cast a grim eye on the long files that sank away in the darkness
behind him.

"They march very well," he said, "but they will do better with more
practice. Ride to the rear, Lieutenant Kenton, and see if there are any
stragglers. If you find any order them back into line and if they refuse
to obey, shoot."

Again his voice was not raised, but an electric current of fiery energy
seemed to leap from this grave, somber man and to infuse itself through
the veins of the lad to whom he gave the orders.

Harry saluted and, wheeling his horse, rode swiftly along the edge of
the forest toward the rear. Now, the spirit of indomitable youth broke
forth. Many in the columns were as young as he and some younger. In
the earlier years of the war, and indeed, to the very close, there was
little outward respect for rank among the citizen soldiers of either
army. Harry was saluted with a running fire of chaff.

"Turn your horse's