sunrise."

Munford explained. "The men were much scattered, sir. They don't know
the country, and in the storm last night and the thick wood they
couldn't see their horses' ears. They had nothing to eat and--"

He came to a pause. No amount of good reasons ever for long rolled
fluently off the tongue before Jackson. He spoke now, still in the
concentrated monotony of his voice of displeasure. "Yes, sir. But,
colonel, I ordered you to be here at sunrise. Move on with your men. If
you meet the enemy drive in his pickets, and if you want artillery
Colonel Crutchfield will furnish you."

Munford moved on, his body of horse increasing in size as the lost
troopers emerged in twos and threes or singly from the forest and turned
down the road to join the command. The proceeding gave an effect of
disordered ranks. Jackson beckoned the courier. "Go tell Colonel Munford
that his men are straggling badly."

The courier went, and presently returned. Munford was with him.
"General, I thought I had best come myself and explain--they aren't
straggling. We were all separated in the dark night and--"

"Yes, sir. But I ordered you to be here at sunrise. Move on now, and
drive in the enemy's pickets, and if you want artillery Colonel
Crutchfield will furnish you."

Munford and the 2d Virginia went on, disappearing around a bend in the
road. The sound of the artillery coming up was now loud in the clear
air. Jackson listened a moment, then left the shadow of the pine, and
with the two attending officers and the courier resumed the way to White
Oak Swamp.

Brigade by brigade, twenty-five thousand men in grey passed Savage
Station and followed Stonewall Jackson. The air was fresh, the troops in
spirits. Nobody was going to let McClellan get to the James, after all!
The brigades broke into song. They laughed, they joked, they cheered
every popular field officer as he passed, they genially discussed the
heretofore difficulties of the campaign and the roseate promise of the
day. They knew it was the crucial day; that McClellan must be stopped
before sunset or he would reach the shelter of his gunboats. They were
in a Fourth of July humour; they meant to make the day remembered. Life
seemed bright again and much worth while. They even grudgingly agreed
that there was a curious kind of attractiveness about all this flat
country, and the still waters, and the very tall trees, and labyrinthine
vivid green undergrowth. Intermittent fevers ha