The Star of Gettysburg | Page 9

absolute confidence in the one who sent them to do it.
The great excitement of Jackson in his new uniform passed and the
boys resumed their luxurious quarters on the leaves beside the Opequon.
Sherburne, who had left them a while, returned, riding a splendid bay
horse, which he tethered to a bush before rejoining them.
"That's not the horse I saw you riding at Antietam, Captain," said
Langdon. "I counted that fellow's ribs, and none show in this one. It's
no business of mine, but I want to know where you got that fine brute."
"No, it's none of your business, Tom," replied Sherburne, as he settled
himself comfortably, "you haven't anything in the world to do with it,
but that's no reason why you shouldn't ask and I shouldn't answer."
"Drop the long-winded preliminaries, then, and go ahead."
"I got him on a wild ride with the general, General Stuart. What a
cavalryman! I don't believe there was ever such another glutton for
adventure and battle. General Lee wasn't just sure what McClellan
meant to do, and he ordered General Stuart to pick his men and go see.
"The general took six hundred of us, and four light guns, and we
crossed the Potomac at dawn. Then we rode straight toward the north,
exchanging shots here and there with Northern pickets. We went across
Maryland and clear up into Pennsylvania, a hundred miles it must have
been, I think, and at a town called Chambersburg we got a great supply
of Yankee stores, including five hundred horses, which came in mighty
handy, I can tell you. I got Bucephalus there. He's a fine steed, too, I
can tell you. He was intended to carry some fat Pennsylvania colonel or
major, and instead he has me for a rider, a thinner and consequently a

lighter man. I haven't heard him expressing any sorrow over the
exchange."
"What did you do after you got the remounts?" asked Harry.
"We began to curve then. We passed a town called Gettysburg, and we
went squarely behind the Union army. Mountainous and hilly country
up there, but good and cultivated beautifully. Those Pennsylvania
Germans, Harry, beat us all hollow at farming. I'm beginning to think
that slaves are not worth owning. They ruin our land."
"Which may be so," interrupted Langdon, "but we're not the kind of
people to give them up because a lot of other people order us to do it."
"Shut up, Tom," exclaimed Harry. "Let the captain go on with his
story."
"We went on around the Union rear, rode another hundred miles after
leaving Chambersburg, coming to a place called Hyattstown, near
which we cut across McClellan's communications with Washington.
Things grew warm, as the Yankees, learning that we were in the
country, began to assemble in great force. They tried to prevent our
crossing the Monocacy River, and we had a sharp fight, but we drove
them off before they could get up a big enough force to hold us. Then
we came on, forded the Potomac and got back after having made an
entire circuit of McClellan's army."
"What a ride!" exclaimed St. Clair, his eyes sparkling. "I wish I had
been with you. It would have been something to talk about."
"We did stir 'em up," said Sherburne with pardonable pride, "and we
got a lot of information, too, some of it beyond price. We've learned
that there will be no more attempts on Richmond by sea. The Yankee
armies will come across Virginia soil or not at all."
"I imagine McClellan won't be in any hurry to cross the Potomac," said
Harry. "He certainly got us into a hot corner at Antietam, and if the
reports are true he had plenty of time to come up and wipe out General

Lee's whole force, while Old Jack was tied up at Harper's Ferry. They
feel that way about McClellan in the North, too. I've got an old
Philadelphia newspaper and I'll read to you part of a poem that's
reprinted in it. The poem is called 'Tardy George.' Listen:
"What are you waiting for, George, I pray? To scour your cross belts
with fresh pipe clay? To burnish your buttons, to brighten your guns?
Or wait for May-day, and warm spring suns? Are you blowing your
fingers because they're cold, Or catching your breath ere you take a
hold? Is the mud knee-deep in valley and gorge? What are you waiting
for, Tardy George?"
"That's pretty bitter," said Harry, "but it must have been written before
the Seven Days. You notice what the author says about waiting for
May-day."
"Likely enough you're right, but it applies just the same or they
wouldn't be reprinting it in their newspapers. Some of them claim a
victory over us at