The Scouts of Stonewall | Page 6

supplies, and the rest could be destroyed to keep them from falling into
Northern hands.
He gave his horse a little breathing space and then galloped harder than
ever, reckoning that he would reach the village in another hour. He
turned from the woods into one of the narrow roads between farms, just
wide enough for wagons, and increased his speed.
The afternoon sun was declining, filling the west with dusky gold, and
Harry still rode at a great pace along the rough road, wondering all the
while what would be the nature of the lucky chance, in which he was
trusting so firmly. Lower sank the sun and the broad band of dusky
gold was narrowing before the advance of the twilight. The village was
not now more than two miles away, and the road dipped down before
him. Sounds like that made by the force behind him, the rattle of arms,
the creak of leather and the beat of hoofs, came suddenly to his ears.
Harry halted abruptly and reined his horse into some bushes beside the

road. Then he heard the sounds more plainly. They were made by
cavalry, riding slowly. The great pulses in his throat leaped in quick
alarm. Was it possible that they had sent a portion of their force swiftly
by another route, and that it was now between him and the village?
He listened again and with every faculty strained. The cavalrymen were
riding toward him and they could not be a part of the Union force. Then
they must be of his own South. Surely this was the happy chance of
which he had dreamed! Again the great pulses leaped, but with a
different emotion.
Scorning every risk, he reined his horse back into the road and rode
straight forward. The heads of men were just topping the rise, and a few
moments later they and the horses they bestrode came into full view. It
was a thankful thrill that shot through him now. The sun, almost sunk,
sent a last golden shower across them and disclosed the dingy gray of
their uniforms and the lean, tanned faces.
Uttering a shout of joy and holding up a hand to show that he was a
friend, Harry galloped forward. A young man at the head of the troop, a
captain by his uniform, and evidently the leader, gave the signal to his
men to stop, and received the boy who came alone.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm Harry Kenton, a lieutenant in the army of Stonewall Jackson, and
an aide on the staff of Colonel Leonidas Talbot, colonel of the regiment
known as the Invincibles."
"I've heard of that regiment. South Carolinians at first, but now mostly
Virginians."
"The Virginians filled up the gaps that were made on the battlefield."
Harry spoke proudly, and the young captain smiled. The boy regarded
him with increasing interest. Somehow he was reminded of Jeb Stuart,
although this man was younger, not having passed his boyhood long.

It was evident that he was tall. Thick, yellow curls showed from under
the edge of his cap. His face, like Harry's, had turned red before wind
and rain. His dress was a marvel, made of the finest gray without a spot
or stain. A sash of light blue silk encircled his waist, and the costly gray
cloak thrown back a little from his shoulders revealed a silk lining of
the same delicate blue tint. His gauntlets were made of the finest
buckskin, and a gold-hilted small sword swung from his sash.
"A dandy," thought Harry, "but the bravest of the brave, for all that."
"My name's Sherburne, Captain Philip Sherburne," said the young
leader. "I'm from the Valley of Virginia, and so are my men. We
belong to Stonewall Jackson's army, too, but we've been away most of
the time on scouting duty. That's the reason you don't know us. We're
going toward Winchester, after another of our fruitless rides."
"But it won't be fruitless this time!" exclaimed Harry, eagerly. "A
Union force of nearly a thousand men is on its way to destroy the stores
at the village, the stores that were to be moved to a safer place
tomorrow!"
"How do you know?"
"I've seen 'em. I was behind 'em at first and followed 'em for a long
time before I guessed their purpose. Then I curved about 'em, galloped
through the woods, and rode on here, hoping for the lucky chance that
has come with you."
Harry, as he spoke, saw the eyes of the young captain leap and flame,
and he knew he was in the presence of one of those knightly souls,
thrown up so often in the war, most often by the border States. They
were youths who rode forth to battle in