pported by a fallen tree. Farther on we overtook one of our
battery horses which we had captured from Banks two weeks before.
Shields's men then captured him from us, and we again from them. He had
been wounded four times, but was still fit for service.

Such a spectacle as we here witnessed and exultingly enjoyed possibly
has no parallel. After a rapid retreat of more than one hundred miles,
to escape from the clutches of three armies hotly pursuing on flank and
rear, one of which had outstripped us, we paused to contemplate the
situation. On the ground where we stood lay the dead and wounded of
Shields's army, with much of their artillery and many prisoners in our
possession, while, crowning the hills in full view and with no means of
crossing an intervening river, even should they venture to do so, stood
another army--Fremont's--with flags flying.

CHAPTER IX

FROM BROWN'S GAP TO STAUNTON--FROM STAUNTON TO RICHMOND--COLD
HARBOR--GENERAL LEE VISITS HIS SON IN THE BATTERY

I had exchanged my brother John as a bedfellow for Walter Packard.
Walter was a droll fellow, rather given to arguing, and had a way of
enraging his adversary while he kept cool, and, when it suited, could
put on great dignity. Immediately following our battery, as we worked
our way along a by-road through the foothills toward Brown's Gap, was
Gen. Dick Taylor at the head of his Louisiana Brigade. Walter had
mounted and was riding on a caisson, contrary to orders recently issued
by Jackson. Taylor ordered him to get down. Walter turned around, and,
looking coolly at him, said, with his usual sang-froid, "Who are you,
and what the devil have you to do with my riding on a caisson?" Taylor
seemed astounded for a moment, and then opened on poor Walter with a
volley of oaths that our champion swearer, Irish Emmett, would have
envied.

When we had gotten about half-way to the top of the mountain, I, with
three others, was detailed to go back and bring Lieut. Cole Davis from
the field. We were too tired for any thought but of ourselves, and
retraced our steps, growling as we went. We had heard that Davis was
mortally wounded, and was probably dead then. Suddenly, one hundred
yards in front of us, we saw a man riding slowly toward us, sitting
erect, with his plume flying. We said, "That's Davis or his ghost!" It
was he, held on his horse by a man on each side. We walked on with him
till dusk, but, finding he had assistants to spare, two of us ov