before we came to Virginia?"

"God! what a noise!"

Ashby spoke. "Don't fire till you see the whites of their eyes."

The charge began to swallow up the gentle slope, the sunny road, the
green grass to either hand. The bugles blew at height, the sabres
gleamed, the tall man in front rode rising in his stirrups, his sabre
overhead. "Huzzah! huzzah! huzzah!" shouted the blue cavalry.

"Are you ready, Captain Chew?" demanded Ashby. "Very well, then, let
them have it!"

The Blakeley and the two Parrott guns spoke in one breath. While the
echoes were yet thundering, burst a fierce volley from all the
Confederate short rifles. Down went the Federal colour-bearer, down went
other troopers in the front rank, down went the great gaunt horse
beneath the Englishman! Those behind could not at once check their
headlong gallop; they surged upon and over the fallen. The Blakeley
blazed again and the grey carbines rang. The Englishman was on his feet,
had a trooper's horse and was shouting like a savage, urging the
squadrons on and up. For the third time the woods flamed and rang. The
blue lines wavered. Some horsemen turned. "Damn you! On!" raged Wyndham.

Ashby put his bugle to his lips. Clear and sweet rose the notes, a
silver tempest. "_Ashby! Ashby!_" shouted the grey lines and charged.
"_Ashby! Ashby!_" Out of the woods and down the hill they came like
undyked waters. The two tides met and clashed. There followed a wild
melee, a shouting, an unconscious putting forth of great muscular
energy, a seeing as through red glasses besmirched with powder smoke, a
poisonous odour, a sense of cotton in the mouth, a feeling as of
struggle on a turret, far, far up, with empty space around and below.
The grey prevailed, the blue turned and fled. For a moment it seemed as
though they were flying through the air, falling, falling! the grey had
a sense of dizziness as they struck spur in flank and pursued headlong.
All seemed to be sinking through the air, then, suddenly, they felt
ground, exhaled breath, and went thundering up the Port Republic road,
toward Harrisonburg. In front strained the blue, presently reaching the
wood. A gun boomed from a slope beyond. Ashby checked the pursuit and
listened to the report of a vedette. "Fremont pushing forward. Horse
and guns and the German division. Hm!" He sat the bay stallion, looking
about him, then, "Cuninghame, you go back to General Ewell. Rear guard
can't be more than three miles away. Tel