h
dangerous and exciting. The men had lots of fun out of it, and only a
few of them were shot, though there were many narrow escapes.

On the morning of July 14, the Third cavalry division marched over the
Hagerstown pike, into Williamsport. There was no enemy there. Lee had
given Meade the slip. His army was across the Potomac, in Virginia once
more, safe from pursuit. As he reined up his faithful steed upon the
northern bank of the broad river, the union trooper looked wistfully at
the country beyond. Well he knew that Lee had escaped, like a bird from
the snare, and could march leisurely back to his strongholds. Visions of
the swamps of the Chickahominy, of Bull Run, of Fredericksburg, of
Chancellorsville, passed before his mind as with pensive thought he
gazed upon the shining valley of the Shenandoah, stretching away to the
southward in mellow perspective. He wondered how long the two armies
were to continue the work of alternately chasing each other back and
forth across this battle-ground of the republic. The wide, majestic
river, no longer vexed by the splashing tread of passing squadrons, with
smooth and tranquil flow swept serenely along, the liquid notes of its
rippling eddies seeming to mock at the disappointment of the baffled
pursuer. The calm serenity of the scene was in sharp contrast with the
stormy passions of the men who sought to disturb it with the stern
fatalities of war. The valley, rich with golden harvests, presented a
charming dissolving view, melting away in the dim distance. On the left,
the smoky summits of the Blue mountains marked the eastern limits of
this "storehouse of the confederacy," the whole forming a picture in
which beauty and grandeur were strikingly blended.

But this reverie of the soldier was soon rudely disturbed. Word came
that they were not all across after all. Five miles below, at Falling
Waters, in a bend of the river, was a ford where a portion of
Longstreet's corps was yet to cross on a pontoon bridge. Kilpatrick
started off in hot haste for Falling Waters, determined to strike the
last blow on northern soil. The Sixth Michigan was in advance, two
troops--B and F--under Major Weber, acting as advance guard. Kilpatrick
and Custer followed Weber; then came Colonel Gray with the remainder of
the regiment.

The march from Williamsport to Falling Waters was a wild ride. For the
whole distance the horses were spurred to a gallop. Kilpatrick was
afraid he would not get th