e his wife.

The cavalcade mounted. He waved his aides aside.

"No escort, boys. See you at sunrise."

The farmer's house was only half a mile inside his lines. When the army
of the North was hurled back into Washington he had sent for his wife
and babies and arranged for their board at the nearest farmhouse.

The little mother's heart was fluttering with love and pride. Richmond
was already ringing with the praises of her soldier man. They
were recruiting the first brigade of Cavalry. He was slated for
Brigadier-General of the mounted forces. And he was only twenty-eight!

Stuart sprang from his horse and rushed to meet his wife. She was
waiting in the glow of the sunset, her eyes misty with joyous tears.

It was a long time as she nestled in his arms before she could speak.
Her voice was barely a whisper.

"You've passed through your first baptism of blood safely, my own!"

"Baptism of blood--nothing!" He laughed. "It wasn't a fight at all. We
had nothing to do till the blue birds flew. And then we flew after 'em.
Oh, honey girl, it was just a lark. I laughed till I cried--"

She raised her eyes to his.

"And you didn't see my dear old daddy anywhere?"

"No. I wish I had! I'd have taken the loyal old rascal prisoner and made
you keep him till the war's over."

"It _is_ over, isn't it, dear?"

"No."

"Why, you've driven the army back in a panic on Washington. They'll ask
for peace, won't they?"

"They won't, honey. I know 'em too well. They'll more than likely ask
for a million volunteers."

"It's not over, then?"

"No, dear little mother. I'll be honest with you. Don't believe silly
talk. We're in for a long, desperate fight--"

"And I've been so happy thinking you'd come home--"

"Your home will be with me, won't it?"

"Always."

"All right. This is the beginning of my scheme for the duration of the
war. I'm going to get you a map of Virginia, showing the roads. I'll get
you a compass. There'll always be a little farmhouse somewhere behind my
headquarters. Our home will be in the field and saddle for a while."

He kissed his babies and ate his supper laughing and joking like a
boy of nineteen. The table cleared, he ordered a concert for their
entertainment.

Bob, the leader of his minstrels, was a dandified mulatto who played the
guitar, the second was a whistler and the third a master of the negro
dance, the back step and the breakdown.

Bob tuned his guitar, picked his strings and gaz