Mohun | Page 4

to come with me?"
"More than with any general in the army, since Jackson's death. You
know I am sincere in saying that."
"Thanks--then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want
another inspector-general, and want you."
With these words Stuart seated himself at his desk, wrote a note, which,
he dispatched by a courier to army head-quarters; and then throwing
aside business, he began laughing and talking.
For once the supply of red tape in Richmond seemed temporarily
exhausted. Stuart was Lee's right hand, and when he made a request,
the War Office deigned to listen. Four days afterward, I was seated
under the canvas of a staff tent, when Stuart hastened up with boyish
ardor, holding a paper.
"Here you are, old Surry,"--when he used the prefix "old" to any one's
name, he was always excellently well disposed toward them,--"the
Richmond people are prompt this time. Here is your assignment--send
for Sweeney and his banjo! He shall play 'Jine the Cavalry!' in honor of
the occasion, Surry!"
You see now, my dear reader, how it happened that in June, 1863,
Stuart beckoned to me, and gave me an order to transmit to General
Mordaunt.

III.
BLUE AND GRAY PHANTOMS.
As I rode toward the Rappahannock to deliver Stuart's order to General
Mordaunt, the wide landscape was suddenly lit up by a crimson glare. I
looked over my shoulder. The sun was poised upon the western woods,
and resembled a huge bloodshot eye. Above it extended a long black
cloud, like an eyebrow--and from the cloud issued low thunder.
When a storm is coming, the civilian seeks shelter; but the soldier

carrying an order, wraps his cape around him, and rides on. I went on
past Brandy and Fleetwood Hill, descended toward the river, entered a
great belt of woods--then night and storm descended simultaneously.
An artillery duel seemed going on in the clouds; the flickering
lightnings amid the branches resembled serpents of fire: the wind rolled
through the black wood, tearing off boughs in its passage.
I pushed my horse to full speed to emerge from this scene of crashing
limbs and tottering trunks. I had just passed a little stream, when from a
by-road on my left came the trample of hoofs. It is good to be on the
watch in the cavalry, and I wheeled to the right, listening--when all at
once a brilliant flash of lightning showed me, within fifty paces, a
column of blue cavalry.
"Halt!" rang out from the column, and a pistol-shot followed.
I did not halt. Capture was becoming a hideous affair in June, 1863. I
passed across the head of the column at full speed, followed by bullets;
struck into a bridle-path on the right, and pushed ahead, hotly pursued.
They had followed me nearly half a mile, firing on me, and ordering me
to halt, when suddenly a sonorous "Halt!" resounded fifty yards in front
of me; and a moment afterward, a carbine ball passed through my
riding cape.
I drove on at full speed, convinced that these in front were friends; and
the chest of my horse struck violently against that of another in the
darkness.
"Halt, or you are dead!" came in the same commanding voice.
Another flash of lightning showed me a squadron of gray cavalry: at
their head rode a cavalier, well mounted; it was his horse against which
I had struck, and he held a cocked pistol to my breast.
The lightning left nothing in doubt. Gray and blue quickly recognized
each other. The blue cavalry had drawn rein, and, at that moment, the
leader of the grays shouted--"Charge!" A rush of hoofs, and then a
quick clash of sabres followed. The adversaries had hurled together.
The wood suddenly became the scene of a violent combat.
It was a rough affair. For ten minutes the result was doubtful. The
Federal cavalry were apparently commanded by an officer of excellent
nerve, and he fought his men obstinately. For nearly a quarter of an
hour the wood was full of sabre-strokes, carbine-shots, and yells, which
mingled with the roll of the storm. Then the fight ended.

My friend of the cocked pistol threw himself, sabre in hand, upon the
Federal front, and it shook, and gave back, and retreated. The weight of
the onset seemed to sweep it, inch by inch, away. The blue squadron
finally broke, and scattered in every direction. The grays pressed on
with loud cheers, firing as they did so:--five minutes afterward, the
storm-lashed wood had swallowed pursuers and pursued.
The whole had disappeared like phantom horsemen in the direction of
the Rappahannock.

IV.
MOHUN AND HIS PRISONER.
Half an hour afterward, the storm had spent its fury, and I was standing
by a bivouac fire on the banks