between was
thin--nothing more, indeed, than a slight partition. An hour or two
later the Federal officers, sitting quietly, heard the Confederate
cavalryman enter, ask for writing materials, demand of an aide if the
courier had yet returned from General Jackson, place himself at a table
and fall to writing. One of the blue soldiers tiptoed to the wall, found
a chair conveniently placed and sat down with his ear to the boards. For
five minutes, scratch, scratch! went Munford's pen. At the expiration of
this time there was heard in the hall without a jingling of spurs and a
clanking of a sabre. The scratching ceased; the pen was evidently
suspended. "Come in!" The listeners in the next room heard more
jingling, a heavy entrance, Munford's voice again.

"Very good, Gilmer. What did the general say?"

"He says, sir, that General Fremont is to be told that our surgeons will
continue to attend their wounded. As we are not monsters they will be as
carefully attended to as are our own. The only lack in the matter will
be medicines and anaesthetics."

"Very good, Gilmer, I will so report to the officer in charge of the
flag of truce.--Well, what is it, man? You look as though you were
bursting with news!"

"I am, sir! Whiting, and Hood, and Lawton, and the Lord knows who
besides, are coming over the Rockfish Gap! I saw them with my own eyes
on the Staunton road. About fifteen thousand, I reckon, of Lee's best.
Gorgeous batteries--gorgeous troops--Hood's Texans--thousands of
Georgians--all of them playing 'Dixie,' and hurrahing, and asking
everybody they see to point out Jackson!--No, sir, I'm not dreaming! I
know we thought that they couldn't get here for several days yet--but
here they are! Good Lord! I wouldn't, for a pretty, miss the hunting
down the Valley!"

The blue soldiers heard Munford and the courier go out. An hour later
they were conducted to the colonel's presence. "I am sorry, major, but
General Jackson declines acceding to General Fremont's request. He
says--"

The party with the flag of truce went back to Fremont. They went like
Lieutenant Gilmer, "bursting with news." The next day Munford pushed his
advance to New Market. Fremont promptly broke up his camp, retired to
Strasburg, and began to throw up fortifications. His spies brought
bewilderingly conflicting reports. A deserter, who a little later
deserted back again, confided to him that Stonewall Jackson was simply
another Cromwell; that he was makin