nd he'll tolerate no shade of insubordination, or
disobedience, or neglect of duty. He's got the defect of his quality,
and sometimes he'll see those things where they are not. He doesn't
understand making allowances or forgiving. He'll rebuke a man in general
orders, hold him up--if he's an officer--before the troops, and all for
something that another general would hardly notice! He'll make an
officer march without his sword for whole days in the rear of his
regiment, and all for something that just a reprimand would have done
for! As you say, he made the very man we're talking of do that from
Bloomery Gap to Romney--and nobody ever knew why. Just the other day
there were some poor fools of twelve-month men in one of our regiments
who concluded they didn't want to reenlist. They said they'd go home and
cried out for their discharge. And they had forgotten all about the
conscription act that Congress had just passed. So, when the discharge
was refused they got dreadfully angry, and threw down their arms. The
colonel went to the general, and the general almost put him under
arrest. 'Why does Colonel Grigsby come to me to learn how to deal with
mutineers? Shoot them where they stand.'--Kernstown, too. There's hardly
a man of the Stonewall that doesn't think General Garnett justified in
ordering that retreat, and yet look at Garnett! Under arrest, and the
commanding general preferring charges against him! Says he did not wait
for orders, lost the battle and so on. With Garnett it is a deadly
serious matter--rank and fame and name for courage all in peril--"

"I see. But with Richard Cleave it was not serious?"

"Not in the least. These smaller arrests and censures--not even the best
can avoid them. I shouldn't think they were pleasant, for sometimes they
are mentioned in reports, and sometimes they get home to the womenfolk.
But his officers understand him by now, and they keep good discipline,
and they had rather be led by Stonewall Jackson than by an easier man.
As for Richard Cleave, I was with him on the march to McDowell and he
looked a happy man."

"Ah!"

The conversation dropped. The scout, having said his say, easily
relapsed into silence. His visitor, half reclining upon his cloak
beneath an old, gnarled tree, was still. The firelight played strangely
over his face, for now it seemed the face of one man, now that of
another. In the one aspect he looked intent, as though in his mind he
mapped a course. In the