and its creatures. Nearly
all fell short, but one, a shell from a thirty-pounder Parrott, entered
the pine wood by Mitchell's Ford, fell among the wagons of the 65th, and
exploded.

A driver was killed, a mule mangled so that it must be shot, and an
ambulance split into kindling wood. Few in the First Brigade had seen
such a thing before. The men brushed the pine needles and the earth from
their coats, and looked at the furrowed ground and at the headless body
of the driver with a startled curiosity. There was a sense of a sudden
and vivid flash from behind the veil, and they as suddenly perceived
that the veil was both cold and dark. This, then, was one of the ways in
which death came, shrieking like this, ugly and resistless! The July
morning was warm and bright, but more than one of the volunteers in that
wood shivered as though it were winter. Jackson rode along the front.
"They don't attack in force at the Stone Bridge. A feint, I think." He
stopped before the colour company of the 65th. "Captain Cleave."

"Yes, sir."

"You have hunters from the mountains. After the battle send me the man
you think would make the best scout--an intelligent man."

"Very well, sir."

The other turned Little Sorrel's head toward the stream and stood
listening. The sound of the distant cannonade increased. The pine wood
ran back from the water, grew thinner, and gave place to mere copse and
a field of broomsedge. From this edge of the forest came now a noise of
mounted men. "Black Horse, I reckon!" said the 65th. "Wish they'd go ask
Old Joe what he and Beauregard have got against us!--No, 'taint Black
Horse--I see them through the trees--gray slouch hats and no feathers in
them! Infantry, too--more infantry than horse. Hampton, maybe--No, they
look like home folk--" A horseman appeared in the wood, guiding a
powerful black stallion with a light hand between the pines, and
checking him with a touch beside the bank upon which Little Sorrel was
planted. "General Jackson?" inquired a dry, agreeable voice.

"Yes, sir, I am General Jackson. What troops have you over there?"

"The Virginia Legion."

Jackson put out a large hand. "Then you are Colonel Fauquier Cary? I am
glad to see you, sir. We never met in Mexico, but I heard of you--I
heard of you!"

The other gave his smile, quick and magnetic. "And I of you, general.
Magruder chanted your praises day and night--our good old Fuss and
Feathers, too! Oh, Mexico!"

Jackson's cou