the morning a boat was put across the half-frozen river. It bore a
summons to Lander to surrender, the alternative being a bombardment of
the town. "Retaliation for Shepherdstown" read Jackson's missive. Ashby
bore the summons and was led blindfold through the streets to
headquarters. Lander, looking momently for reinforcements from
Williamsport, declined to surrender. Ashby passed blindfolded out of the
town, entered the boat, and came back to Stonewall Jackson. The latter
waited two hours, then began to throw shells into the town. Since early
morning a force had been engaged in constructing, two miles up the
river, a rude bridge by which the troops might cross. The evening before
there had been skirmishes at Sir John's Run and at the Big Cacapon. A
regiment of Loring's destroyed the railroad bridge over the latter
stream. The Federals withdrew across the river, leaving no command in
Morgan County.

Throughout the afternoon McLaughlin's battery dropped shells into
Hancock, but an hour before dark came orders to cease firing. A
scout--Allan Gold--brought tidings of heavy reinforcements pouring into
the town from Williamsport and Hagerstown. So heavy were they that
Jackson, after standing for five minutes with his face to the north,
sent orders to discontinue work upon the bridge. Romney, when all was
said, not Hancock, was his destination--Kelly's eight thousand in
Virginia, not Lander's brigades across the line. Doubtless it had been
his hope to capture every Federal in Bath, to reach and cross the
Potomac, inflict damage, and retire before those reinforcements could
come up. But the infantry which he commanded was not yet his "foot
cavalry," and neither knew nor trusted him as it was to know and trust.
The forces about him to-day were not homogeneous. They pulled two ways,
they were not moulded and coloured as they were to be moulded and
coloured, not instinct with the one man view as they were to become
instinct. They were not iron as he was iron, nor yet thunderbolts of
war. They could not divine the point and hour of attack, and, sooth to
say, they received scant assistance from the actual wizard. They were
patriot forces, simple and manly souls ready enough to die for their
cause, but few were yet at the arrowhead of concentration as was this
man. They were to attain it, but not yet. He looked at the north and he
looked at his complaining legions, and he strode off to his bivouac
beneath a solitary tree. Here, a