e
wants is an immediate battle."

He rode on. The men to whom he had been speaking looked after him
approvingly. "He's a fine piece of steel! Always liked that whole
family--Isn't he a cousin of ----? Yes. Wonder what he thinks about that
matter! Heigho! Look at the stealing light and the grey shadows!
Manassas!"

Cary, riding by Ewell's lines, came upon Maury Stafford lying stretched
beneath an oak, studying, too, the old battlefield. The sun was up; the
morning cool, fresh, and pure. Dismounting, Cary seated himself beside
the other. "You were not in the battle here? On the Peninsula, were you
not?"

"Yes, with Magruder. Look at that shaft of light."

"Yes. It strikes the crest of the hill--just where was the Stonewall
Brigade."

Silence fell. The two sat, brooding over the scene, each with his own
thoughts. "This field will be red again," said Stafford at last.

"No doubt. Yes, red again. I look for heavy fighting."

"I saw you when you came in with A. P. Hill on the second. But we have
not spoken together, I think, since Richmond."

"No," said Cary. "Not since Richmond."

"One of your men told me that, coming up, you stopped in Albemarle."

"Yes, I went home for a few hours."

"All at Greenwood are well and--happy?"

"All at Greenwood are well. Southern women are not precisely happy. They
are, however, extremely courageous."

"May I ask if Miss Cary is at Greenwood?"

"She remained at her work in Richmond through July. Then the need at the
hospital lessening, she went home. Yes, she is at Greenwood."

"Thank you. I am going to ask another question. Answer it or not as you
see fit. Does she know that--most unfortunately--it was I who carried
that order from General Jackson to General Winder?"

"I do not think that she knows it." He rose. "The bugles are sounding. I
must get back to Hill. General Lee will be up, I hope, to-night. Until
he comes we are rather in the lion's mouth. Happily John Pope is hardly
the desert king." He mounted his horse, and went. Stafford laid himself
down beneath the oak, looked sideways a moment at Bull Run and the hills
and the woods, then flung his arm upward and across his eyes, and went
in mind to Greenwood.

The day passed in a certain still and steely watchfulness. In the August
afternoon, Jeb Stuart, feather in hat, around his horse's neck a garland
of purple ironweed and yarrow, rode into the lines and spoke for ten
minutes with General Jackson, then spurred aw