In a foliage-embowered house on a hill near Washington Colonel JebStuart, Commander of the Confederate Cavalry, had made his headquarters.
Neighing horses were hitched to the swaying limbs. They pawed theground, wheeled and whinnied their impatience at inaction. Every man whosat in one of those saddles owned his mount. These boys were the flowerof Southern manhood. The Confederate Government was too poor to furnishhorses for the Cavalry. Every man, volunteering for this branch of theservice, must bring his own horse and equipment complete. The South onlyfurnished a revolver and carbine. At the first battle of Bull Run theydidn\'t have enough of them even for the regiments Stuart commanded.
Whole companies were armed only with the pikes which John Brown had madefor the swarming of the Black Bees at Harper\'s Ferry. They used thesepikes as lances.
The thing that gave the Confederate Cavalry its impetuous dash, its fireand efficiency was the fact that every man on horseback had been bornin the saddle and had known his horse from a colt. From the moment theyswung into line they were veterans.
The North had no such riders in the field as yet. Brigadier-GeneralPhillip St. George Cooke was organizing this branch of the service. Itwould take weary months to train new riders and break in strange horses.
Until these born riders, mounted on their favorites, could be killed ortheir horses shot from under them, there would be tough work ahead forthe union Cavalry.
A farmer approached at sunset. He gazed on the array with pride.
He lifted his gray head and shouted:
"Hurrah for our boys! Old Virginia\'ll show \'em before we\'re through withthis!"A sentinel saluted the old man.
"I\'ve come for Colonel Stuart. His wife and babies are at my house.
He\'ll understand. Tell him."The farmer watched the spectacle. Straight in front of the littleportico on its tall staff fluttered the Commander\'s new, blood-redbattle flag with its blue St. Andrew\'s cross and white stars ripplingin the wind. Spurs were clanking, sabers rattling. A courier dashed up,dismounted and entered the house. Young officers in their new uniformswere laughing and chatting in groups before the door.
An escort brought in a Federal Cavalry prisoner on his mount. The boysgathered around him and roared with laughter. He was a good-naturedIrishman who could take a joke. His horse was loaded down with a hundredpounds of extra equipment. The Irishman had half of it strapped on hisown back.
A boy shouted:
"For the Lord\'s sake, did you take him with all that freight?"An escort roared:
"That\'s why we took him. He couldn\'t run."The boy looked at the solemn face of the prisoner and chaffed:
"And why have ye got that load on your own back, man?"Without cracking a smile the Irishman replied:
"An\' I thought me old horse had all he could carry!"The boys roared, pulled him down, took off his trappings and told him tomake himself at home.
Inside the house could be heard the hum of conversation, with anoccasional boom of laughter that could come from but one throat.
Work for the day completed, he came to the door to greet his visitor.
The farmer\'s eyes flashed at the sight of his handsome figure. He wasonly twenty-eight years old, of medium height, with a long, silken,bronzed beard and curling mustache.
He waved his hand and cried:
"With you in a minute!"His voice was ringing music. He wore a new suit of Confederate graywhich his wife had just sent him. His gauntlets extended nine inchesabove the wrists. His cavalry boots were high above the knee. Hisbroad-brimmed felt hat was caught up on one side with a black ostrichplume. His cavalry coat fitted tightly--a "fighting jacket." It wascircled with a black belt from which hung his revolver and over whichwas tied a splendid yellow sash. His spurs were gold.
A first glance would give the impression of a gay youngster over fondof dress. But the moment his blue eyes flashed there came the glint ofsteel. The man behind the uniform was seen, the bravest of the brave,the flower of Southern chivalry.
For all his gay dress he was from the crown of his head to the soles ofhis feet, every inch the soldier--the soldier with the big brain andgenerous, fun-loving heart. His forehead was extraordinary in heightand breadth, bronzed by sun and wind. His nose was large and nostrilsmobile. His eyes were clear, piercing, intense. His laughing mouth wascompletely covered by the curling mustache and long beard.
He had darted around the house on waving to his visitor and in a minutereappeared, followed by three negroes. He was taking his minstrels withhim on the trip to see his wife.
The cavalcade mounted. He waved his aides aside.
"No escort, boys. See you at sunrise."The farmer\'s ho............