head of the troop, a
captain by his uniform, and evidently the leader, gave the signal to his
men to stop, and received the boy who came alone.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Harry Kenton, a lieutenant in the army of Stonewall Jackson, and
an aide on the staff of Colonel Leonidas Talbot, colonel of the regiment
known as the Invincibles."

"I've heard of that regiment. South Carolinians at first, but now mostly
Virginians."

"The Virginians filled up the gaps that were made on the battlefield."

Harry spoke proudly, and the young captain smiled. The boy regarded
him with increasing interest. Somehow he was reminded of Jeb Stuart,
although this man was younger, not having passed his boyhood long.

It was evident that he was tall. Thick, yellow curls showed from under
the edge of his cap. His face, like Harry's, had turned red before wind
and rain. His dress was a marvel, made of the finest gray without a spot
or stain. A sash of light blue silk encircled his waist, and the costly
gray cloak thrown back a little from his shoulders revealed a silk
lining of the same delicate blue tint. His gauntlets were made of the
finest buckskin, and a gold-hilted small sword swung from his sash.

"A dandy," thought Harry, "but the bravest of the brave, for all that."

"My name's Sherburne, Captain Philip Sherburne," said the young leader.
"I'm from the Valley of Virginia, and so are my men. We belong to
Stonewall Jackson's army, too, but we've been away most of the time on
scouting duty. That's the reason you don't know us. We're going toward
Winchester, after another of our fruitless rides."

"But it won't be fruitless this time!" exclaimed Harry, eagerly. "A
Union force of nearly a thousand men is on its way to destroy the
stores at the village, the stores that were to be moved to a safer place
to-morrow!"

"How do you know?"

"I've seen 'em. I was behind 'em at first and followed 'em for a long
time before I guessed their purpose. Then I curved about 'em, galloped
through the woods, and rode on here, hoping for the lucky chance that
has come with you."

Harry, as he spoke, saw the eyes of the young captain leap and flame,
and he knew he was in the presence of one of those knightly souls,
thrown up so often in the war, most often by the border States. They
were youths who rode forth to battle in the spirit of high romance.

"You ask us to go back to the village and help defend the stores?" said
Philip Sherburne.

"