Part 10 (1/2)

”They don't attack in force at the Stone Bridge. A feint, I think.” He stopped before the colour company of the 65th. ”Captain Cleave.”

”Yes, sir.”

”You have hunters from the mountains. After the battle send me the man you think would make the best scout--an intelligent man.”

”Very well, sir.”

The other turned Little Sorrel's head toward the stream and stood listening. The sound of the distant cannonade increased. The pine wood ran back from the water, grew thinner, and gave place to mere copse and a field of broomsedge. From this edge of the forest came now a noise of mounted men. ”Black Horse, I reckon!” said the 65th. ”Wish they'd go ask Old Joe what he and Beauregard have got against us!--No, 'taint Black Horse--I see them through the trees--gray slouch hats and no feathers in them! Infantry, too--more infantry than horse. Hampton, maybe--No, they look like home folk--” A horseman appeared in the wood, guiding a powerful black stallion with a light hand between the pines, and checking him with a touch beside the bank upon which Little Sorrel was planted. ”General Jackson?” inquired a dry, agreeable voice.

”Yes, sir, I am General Jackson. What troops have you over there?”

”The Virginia Legion.”

Jackson put out a large hand. ”Then you are Colonel Fauquier Cary? I am glad to see you, sir. We never met in Mexico, but I heard of you--I heard of you!”

The other gave his smile, quick and magnetic. ”And I of you, general.

Magruder chanted your praises day and night--our good old Fuss and Feathers, too! Oh, Mexico!”

Jackson's countenance, so rigid, plain, restrained, altered as through some effect of soft and sunny light. The blue of the eye deepened, the iris enlarged, a smile came to his lips. His stiffly held, awkwardly erect figure relaxed, though very slightly. ”I loved it in Mexico. I have never forgotten it. _Dear land of the daughters of Spain!_” The light went indoors again. ”That demonstration upstream is increasing.

Colonel Evans will need support.”

”Yes, we must have orders shortly.” Turning in his saddle, Cary gazed across the stream. ”Andrew Porter and Burnside are somewhere over there.

I wonder if Burnside remembers the last time he was in Virginia!” He laughed. ”Dabney Maury's wedding in '52 at Cleveland, and Burnside happy as a king singing 'Old Virginia never tire!' stealing kisses from the bridesmaids, hunting with the hardest, dancing till c.o.c.kcrow, and asking, twenty times a day, 'Why don't we do like this in Indiana?' I wonder--I wonder!” He laughed again. ”Good old Burnside! It's an odd world we live in, general!”

”The world, sir, is as G.o.d made it and as Satan darkened it.”

Cary regarded him somewhat whimsically. ”Well, we'll agree on G.o.d now, and perhaps before this struggle's over, we'll agree on Satan. That firing's growing louder, I think. There's a cousin of mine in the 65th--yonder by the colours! May I speak to him?”

”Certainly, sir. I have noticed Captain Cleave. His men obey him with readiness.” He beckoned, and when Cleave came up, turned away with Little Sorrel to the edge of the stream. The kinsmen clasped hands.

”How are you, Richard?”

”Very well, Fauquier. And you?”

”Very well, too, I suppose. I haven't asked. You've got a fine, tall company!”

Cleave, turning, regarded his men with almost a love-light in his eyes.

”By G.o.d, Fauquier, we'll win if stock can do it! It's going to make a legend--this army!”

”I believe that you are right. When you were a boy you used to dream artillery.”

”I dream it still. Sooner or later, by hook or by crook, I'll get into that arm. It wasn't feasible this spring.”

His cousin looked at him with the affection, half humorous and wholly tender, with which he regarded most of his belongings in life. ”I always liked you, Richard. Now don't you go get killed in this unnatural war!

The South's going to need every good man she's got--and more beside!

Where is Will?”

”In the 2d. I wanted him nearer me, but 'twould have broken his heart to leave his company. Edward is with the Rifles?”

”Yes, adding l.u.s.tre to the ranks. I came upon him yesterday cutting wood for his mess. 'Why don't you make Jeames cut the wood?' I asked. 'Why,'