low rise to the right front, there comes a
staff-officer at rapid gallop. Down the slope he rides, over the low
stone wall his charger bears him, and down the turnpike he speeds,
heedless of the shouts of inquiry that seem to greet him from the camps
that flank the road. Sharp to his right he turns, at a little lane a
quarter-mile away, and disappears among the trees. "Going to the cavalry
camps," hazards the adjutant, and determines that he had better get over
to the major's tent--their temporary commander--and warn him
"something's coming." Another minute, quick, pealing, spirited, there
rings on the air the sound of a trumpet, and the stirring call of "Boots
and saddles!" startles the ear of many a late sleeper among the
officers. The sun is not yet shining in the valley; the dew is sparkling
on every blade and leaf: but the Second Corps is all astir, and there is
a cheer in the cavalry camp that tells of soldierly doings close at
hand. A light battery is parked just across the highway, and as the aide
reappears, spurring from the lane out into the pike again, the officers
see how its young commander has vaulted into saddle and is riding
down to intercept him so that not a minute be lost if the guns are
needed. They are. For though the aide comes by like a shot, he has
shouted some quick words to the captain of the battery, and the latter
waves his jaunty forage cap to his expectant bugler, standing, clarion
in hand, by the guard-fire. "Boots and saddles!" again; and--drivers and
cannoneers--the men drop their tin cups and plates, and leap for the
lines of harness. Down comes the aide full tilt as before. Captain Lee
runs to the roadside and hails him with familiar shout:

"What's up, Win?"

[Illustration: "_The whole troop is hurriedly saddling._"]

And gets no further answer than

"Tell you as I come back."

Meantime other aides have been scurrying to and fro; and far and near,
up and down the Shenandoah and out across the valley, where the morning
sunshine triumphs over the barring Loudon, the same stirring call rings
out upon the air. "Boots and saddles!" everywhere, and nowhere the
long-roll or the infantry assembly.

"Back to your breakfast, boys," says a tall and bearded sergeant.
"Whatever it is, it don't amount to shucks. The infantry isn't called
for."

But that it amounts to more than "shucks," despite the footman's
epigram, is presently apparent when the staff-officer comes more slowly
back, eas