the edge of Kernstown battlefield a cock crew; a second horn came
faintly. Very near at hand sounded a jingle of accoutrement; Stonewall
Jackson, two or three of the staff with him, came around the turn and
stopped beside the guns. The men about them and the horses, and on the
roadside, drew themselves up and saluted. Jackson gave his slow quiet
nod. He was all leaf bronze from head to foot, his eyes just glinting
beneath the old forage cap. He addressed the lieutenant. "You will
advance, sir, in just three quarters of an hour. There are batteries in
place upon the ridge before us. You will take position there, and you
will not leave until ordered." His eyes fell upon Stafford. "Have you
come from General Ewell?"

"Yes, general. He sends his compliments, and says he is ready."

"Good! Good!--What is this soldier doing here?" He looked at Steve.

"It is a straggler, sir, from my regiment. Lieutenant Randolph picked
him up--"

"Found him under a bridge, sir. I'd call him a deserter--"

Steve writhed as though, literally, the eyes were cold steel and had
pinned him down. "Gawd, general! I didn't desert! Cross my heart and may
I go to hell if I did! I was awful tired--hungry and thirsty--and my
head swimming--I just dropped out, meaning to catch up after a bit! I
had a sore foot. Major Cleave's awful hard on me--"

"You're a disgrace to your company," said Cleave. "If we did not need
even shadows and half men you would be drummed home to Thunder Run,
there to brag, loaf, and rot--"

Steve began to whine. "I meant to catch up, I truly did!" His eyes,
shifting from side to side, met those of Stafford. "Gawd, I'm lost--"

Stafford regarded his quondam prisoner curiously enough. His gaze had in
it something of cruelty, of pondering, and of question. Steve writhed.
"I ain't any better 'n anybody else. Life's awful! Everybody in the
world's agin me. Gawd knows Major Cleave's so--" Cleave made a sound of
contempt.

Stafford spoke. "I do not think he's actually a deserter. I remember his
face. I met him near Middletown, and he gave me his regiment and
company. There are many stragglers."

Steve could have fallen and worshipped. "Don't care whether he did it
for me, or jest 'cause he hates that other one! He does hate him! 'N I
hate him, too--sending me to the guardhouse every whip-stitch!" This to
himself; outside he tried to look as though he had carried the colours
from Front Royal, only dropping them momentarily at t