l await you at Ashland."

Jackson rose. "Good! good! By now my horses will have been changed. I
will get back. The army was to advance this morning to Beaver Dam
Station."

He rode hard through the country all night, it being the second he had
spent in the saddle. Beaver Dam Station and the bivouacking Army of the
Valley saw him on Tuesday morning the twenty-fourth. "Old Jack's back
from wherever he's been!" went the rumour. Headquarters was established
in a hut or two near the ruined railroad. Arriving here, he summoned his
staff and sent for Ewell. While the former gathered he read a report,
forwarded from Munford in the rear. "Scout Gold and Jarrow in from the
Valley. Fremont still fortifying at Strasburg--thinks you may be at
Front Royal. Shields at Luray considers that you may have gone to
Richmond, but that Ewell remains in the Valley with forty thousand men.
Banks at Winchester thinks you may have gone against Shields at Luray,
or King at Catlett's, or Doubleday at Fredericksburg, or gone to
Richmond--but that Ewell is moving west on Moorefield!"

"Good! good!" said Jackson. Staff arrived, and he proceeded to issue
rapid and precise orders. All given, staff hurried off, and the general
spoke to Jim. "Call me when General Ewell comes." He stretched himself
on a bench in the hut. "I am suffering," he said, "from fever and a
feeling of debility." He drew his cloak about him and closed his eyes.
It was but half an hour, however, that he slept or did not sleep, for
Ewell was fiery prompt.

The Army of the Valley entered upon a forced march through country both
difficult and strange. It had been of late in the possession of the
enemy, and the enemy had stretched felled trees across forest roads and
burned the bridges spanning deep and sluggish creeks. Guides were at
fault, cross-roads directions most uncertain. The wood grew intolerably
thick, and the dust of the roads was atrocious; the air cut away by the
tall green walls on either hand; the sun like a furnace seven times
heated. Provisions had not come up in time at Beaver Dam Station and the
troops marched upon half-rations. Gone were the mountains and the
mountain air, present was the languorous breath of the low country. It
had an upas quality, dulling the brain, retarding the step. The men were
very tired, it was hot, and a low fever hung in the air.

They marched until late of a night without a moon, and the bugles waked
them long ere dawn. A mist hung ove