n in the Revolution. Already
an elderly man, he was sober and quiet, but the old West Pointers passed
the word through Jackson's army that he was full of courage and daring.

Harry felt the stimulus almost at once. A fresh wind seemed to be
blowing down the Valley of Virginia. Lee had sent word to Jackson that
he might do what he could, and that he might draw to his help also a
large division under Ewell. The news spread through the army and there
was a great buzzing. Young Virginia was eager to march against any odds,
and Harry was with them, heart and soul.

Nor were they kept waiting now. The news had scarcely spread through the
army when they heard the crack of carbines in their front. The cavalry
of Ashby, increased by many recruits, was already skirmishing with the
vanguard of Banks. It was the last day of April and Harry, sent to the
front, saw Ashby drive in all the Northern cavalry. When he returned
with the news Jackson instantly lifted up his whole division and marched
by the flank through the hills, leaving Ewell with his men to occupy
Banks in front. The mind of the "thinker" was working, and Harry knew it
as he rode behind him. He did not know what this movement meant, but he
had full confidence in the man who led them.

Yet the marching, like all the other marching they had done, was of
the hardest. The ground, torn by hoofs, cannon wheels and the feet of
marching men, was a continuous quagmire. Ponds made newly by the rains
stood everywhere. Often it required many horses and men to drag a cannon
out of the mud. The junior officers, and finally those of the highest
rank, leaped from their horses and gave aid. Jackson himself carried
boughs and stones to help make a road.

Despite the utmost possible exertions the army could make only five
miles in a single day and at the approach of night it flung itself upon
the ground exhausted.

"I call this the Great Muddy Army," said St. Clair, ruefully to Harry,
as he surveyed his fine uniform, now smeared over with brown liquid
paste.

"It might have been worse," said Langdon. "Suppose we had fallen in a
quicksand and had been swallowed up utterly. 'Tis better to live muddy
than not to live at all."

"It would be better to call it the Great Tired Army just now," said
Harry. "To keep on pulling your feet all day long out of mud half a yard
deep is the most exhausting thing I know or ever heard of."

"Where are we going?" asked St. Clair.

"Blessed if I kn