w down their arms. Presently, trailing their feet, they
returned to the streamlet and their companions in misfortune.

The grey swept on, near now to Front Royal; before them a few blue
fugitives, centre of a swiftly moving cloud of dust, a cloud into which
the Thunder Run men fired at short intervals. Behind them they heard the
tramp of the army. The Louisiana Brigade, leading, was coming at a
double-quick. On a parallel road to the left a dust cloud and dull
thunder proclaimed a battery, making for the front. Out of the wood
which the skirmishers had left came like a whirlwind the 65th Virginia,
Jackson riding with Flournoy at the head.

Little Sorrel swerved toward the skirmishers and paused a moment abreast
of Cleave. Jackson spoke from the saddle. "How many?"

"Two companies, sir. Several killed, the rest prisoners, save six or
eight who will reach the town."

"Good! Press on. If they open with artillery, get under cover until our
guns are placed." He jerked his hand into the air and rode on, galloping
stiffly, his feet stuck out from the nag's sides. The cavalry
disappeared to the right in a storm of yellow dust.

The village of Front Royal that had been dozing all the summer forenoon,
woke with a vengeance. Kenly's camp lay a mile or two west, but in the
town was quartered a company or so. Soldiers off duty were lounging on
the shady side of the village street, missing the larger delights of
Strasburg, wondering if Richmond had fallen and where was Stonewall
Jackson, when the fracas, a mile away, broke upon their ears. Secure
indolence woke with a start. Front Royal buzzed like an overturned hive.
In the camp beyond the town bugles blared and the long roll was
furiously beaten. The lounging soldiers jerked up their muskets; others
poured out of houses where they had been billeted. All put their legs to
good use, down the road, back to the camp! Out, too, came the village
people, though not to flee the village. In an instant men and women were
in street or porch or yard, laughing, crying, hurrahing, clapping hands,
waving anything that might serve as a welcoming banner. "Stonewall
Jackson! It's Jackson! Stonewall Jackson! Bless the Lord, O my
soul!--Can't you all stop and tell a body?--No; you can't, of course. Go
along, and God bless you!--Their camp's this side the North Fork--about
a thousand of them.--Guns? Yes, they've got two guns. Cavalry? No, no
cavalry.--Don't let them get away! If they fall back they