him in giving him another splendid horse, and now, as he
rode like the wind, the waning pursuit sank out of sight behind him.

CHAPTER III

JACKSON MOVES

It was impossible for Harry to restrain a vivid feeling of exultation.
He was in the open, and he was leaving the Northern cavalry far behind.
Nor was it likely that any further enemy would appear now between him
and Jackson's army. Chance had certainly favored him. What a glorious
goddess Chance was when she happened to be on your side! Then
everything fell out as you wished it. You could not go wrong.

The horse he rode was even better than the one he had lost, and a pair
of splendid pistols in holsters lay across the saddle. He could account
for two enemies if need be, but when he looked back he saw no pursuers
in sight, and he slowed his pace in order not to overtax the horse.

Not long afterwards he saw the Southern pickets belonging to the
vanguard of the Invincibles. St. Clair himself was with them, and
when he saw Harry he galloped forward, uttering a shout.

St. Clair had known of the errand upon which Harry had gone with
Sherburne, and now he was alarmed to see him riding back alone, worn
and covered with dust.

"What's the matter, Harry?" he cried, "and where are the others?"

"Nothing's the matter with me, and I don't know where the others are.
But, Arthur, I've got to see General Jackson at once! Where is he?"

Harry's manner was enough to impress his comrade, who knew him so well.

"This way," he said. "Not more than four or five hundred yards.
There, that's General Jackson's tent!"

Harry leaped from his horse as he came near and made a rush for the
tent. The flap was open, but a sentinel who stood in front put up his
rifle, and barred the way. A low monotone came from within the tent.

"The General's praying," he said. "I can't let you in for a minute or
two."

Harry took off his hat and stood in silence while the two minutes
lasted. All his haste was suddenly gone from him. The strong affection
that he felt for Jackson was tinged at times with awe, and this awe was
always strongest when the general was praying. He knew that the prayer
was no affectation, that it came from the bottom of his soul, like that
of a crusader, asking forgiveness for his sins.

The monotone ceased, the soldier took down his rifle which was held like
a bar across the way, and Harry, entering, saluted his general, who was
sitting in the ha