It was a singular contrast. Lee, robust, ruddy, erect, with his large frank eye--Ewell, slight, emaciated, pale, with small piercing eyes, and limping on his crutch.

"Thank you, colonel," General Lee said, with his grave but charming courtesy; "tell General Stuart to continue to press them back toward the river."

And turning to Ewell:--

"You had better move on with your command, general," he said, in his measured voice.

Ewell bowed and turned to obey--I returned to Stuart.

He was pushing the Federal cavalry "from pillar to post." Driven back from the hill, where they had planted their artillery, they had retreated on Brandy; Stuart had followed like a fate; Gordon, sent round to the left, struck their right flank with his old sabreurs; Fitz Lee, coming up on the right, thundered down on their left--and in the woods around Brandy took place one of those cavalry combats which, as my friends, the novelists say, "must be seen to be appreciated!" If the reader will imagine, in the dusk of evening, a grand hurly-burly made up of smoke, dust, blood, yells, clashing swords, banging carbines, thundering cannon, and wild cheers, he will have a faint idea of that "little affair" at Brandy.

A queer circ.u.mstance made this fight irresistibly comic.

Fitz Lee had repulsed Buford on the Rapidan; followed him on his retreat, hara.s.sing him at every step--when, just as Buford reached Brandy, with Fitz Lee at his heels, Kilpatrick descended on Fitz Lee's rear by the Sperryville road, and Stuart thundered down on _his_!

Thus Fitz Lee was pursuing Buford; Kilpatrick, Fitz Lee; and Stuart, Kilpatrick! It was a grand and comic jumble--except that it came very near being any thing but comic to that joyous cavalier, "General Fitz,"

as we called him--caught as he was between Generals Buford and Kilpatrick!

General Fitz was the man for a "tight place," however--and "his people," as he called his cavalry, soon cut through to Stuart.

It was a tough and heavy fight.

"Old Jeb cut off more than he could _chaw_, that time!" said a veteran afterward, in describing the fight. And at one time it seemed that the enemy were going to hold their ground.

Fleetwood, beyond, was lined with bayonets, and every knoll was crowned with cannon: when night fell, however, the whole force had retreated and crossed the Rappahannock, leaving the ground strewed with their dead and wounded.

In the dusky woods near Brandy, Stuart sat his horse, looking toward the Rappahannock, and laughing still. He was talking with brave Fitz Lee, whose stout figure, flowing beard, and eyes twinkling with humor, were plain in the starlight. I shall show you that gallant figure more than once in this volume, reader. You had but to look at him to see that he was the bravest of soldiers, and the best of comrades.

So night fell on a victory. Stuart had driven the enemy at every step.

He had charged their infantry, cavalry, and artillery, routing all,--and he was once more in sight of Fleetwood Hill, where he had defeated them in the preceding June.

Singular current of war! It used to bear us onward; but be taken with a sudden fancy to flow back to the old spots! See Mana.s.sas, Fredericksburg, Cold Harbor, Chancellorsville!

Fleetwood takes its place with them--twice b.l.o.o.d.y and memorable. In sight of it took place two of Stuart's hardest combats--and both were victories.

VI.

THE RUSE.

By sunrise Stuart was pushing rapidly up the bank of the Rappahannock toward Warrenton Springs.

Meade had retreated from Culpeper, and was falling back rapidly. Lee was pressing on to cut him off in the vicinity of Auburn.

A hot fight took place at Jeffersonton, a little village beyond Hazel River; and here the enemy fought from house to house, but finally retreated.

Stuart followed, and came up with their rear retreating over the bridge at Warrenton Springs.

On the northern bank the Federal sharp-shooters were posted in double line.

Stuart turned, and saw, not far from him, the Jefferson Company who had charged so gallantly at Stonehouse Mountain. A movement of his hand, and they were charging over the bridge.

Suddenly they recoiled. The head files had stopped,--the horses rearing. The flooring in the centre of the bridge had been torn up--it was impossible to cross.

The men wheeled and came back under a hot fire of sharp-shooters.

Stuart's face was fiery.

"To the ford!" he shouted.

And placing himself in front of the men, sword in hand, he led them through the ford, in face of a heavy fire, charged up the opposite slope, and the Federal skirmishers scattered in wild flight.

The Twelfth Virginia Cavalry followed them, and they were cut down or captured.

As the column moved on, Stuart galloped along the line toward the front.

He had just faced death with these men, and at sight of him they raised a cheer.

"Hurrah for old Jeb!" rose in a shout from the column.

Stuart turned: his face glowed: rising in his stirrups, he took off his hat and exclaimed:---

"Bully for the old Twelfth!"

The words were uncla.s.sic, it may be, reader, but they raised a storm.

"I felt like I could die for old Jeb after that," one of the men said to me.

Stuart disappeared, followed by tumultuous cheers, and his column continued to advance upon Warrenton ahead of the army. He had ridden on for a quarter of an hour, when he turned to me, and said:--

"I am getting uneasy about things at Culpeper. I wish you would ride back to Rosser, who is there with two hundred men, and tell him to call on Young, if he is pushed." I turned my horse.

"You know where Young is?"

"On the Sperryville road."

"Exactly--Rosser can count on him. I am going on toward Warrenton."

And the general and myself parted, riding in opposite directions.

I returned toward Hazel River; pa.s.sed that stream, and the long rows of army wagons; and as the sun was sinking, drew near Culpeper.

As I pressed on, I heard the long thunder of cannon coming up from the direction of Brandy.

What could that sound mean? Had the enemy again advanced and a.s.sailed the small force of cavalry there?