ightful lagoons
and thickets which protected the enemy's flank. A third column, under
General Parke, brought up the rear.

General Foster rode forward with his staff into the woods, and made a
reconnoissance. The line of pickets opened to let the brigade pass
through. Not a drum was beat. Slowly, in silence, occasionally halting,
regiment succeeded regiment, in perfect order, with heavy muffled tramp.

Along the forest road they passed, the men laughing and joking in high
spirits, as if marching to a parade. The still, beautiful light of the
innocent morning silvered the trees. The glistering branches arched
above; the glistening stream of steel flowed beneath. Wreaths of vines,
beards of moss, trailed their long fringes and graceful drapery from the
boughs. The breeze shook down large shining drops, and every bush a
soldier touched threw off its dancing shower.

"'And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, dewy with nature's
tear-drops, as they pass,'" remarked Seth Tucket.

"Come, none o' your solemncholy poetry to-day," said Jack Winch. "I never
felt so jolly in my life. There's only one kind of poetry I want to hear,
and that's the pouring of our volleys into the rebels."

"The pouring of their volleys into us ain't quite so desirable, I
suppose," said Harris.

"There wouldn't be much fun without some danger," said Jack.

"If that's fun, I guess Winch 'll have fun enough before we're through
with this job," remarked Ellis.

"What a long road it is!" cried Jack, impatiently.

"We'll come to a short turn in it pretty soon," said Atwater,
significantly.

"Well, Abe has spoken!" said Jack. "His mouth has been shut so tight all
along, I didn't think 'twould open till the time comes for him to cry
quarter."

"Atwater means to let his gun speak for him to-day," said Harris.

"What do we go so slow for? Why don't we hurry on?" said Jack. "I want to
get at the rebels some time this week. I don't believe they----"

He was going to say that he didn't believe they would wait to fire a
shot. But even as he spoke the confutation of his opinion resounded in
the woods. Crack--crack--crack--went the rebel muskets; then followed a
volley from the troops in advance.

"Why didn't you finish your sentence, Jack?" said Harris, with a smile.

"They're at it!" whispered Jack, in a changed voice.

"A little skirmishing," said Atwater, quietly.

Crack, crack, again; and--_sing!_--came a bullet over the heads of the