He tightened his belt, squared his shoulders, and bending a little forward, ran at a long, easy gait along the trail. He was a strong and enduring youth, trained to the woods and hills, and, with occasional stops for rest, he knew that he could continue until he reached the camp at Manassas. He wondered if the others had got through. He hoped they had, but he was still anxious to be the first who should reach Beauregard, an ambition not unworthy on the part of youth.
He stopped after midnight for a longer rest than usual. Colonel Talbot, at the last moment, had made him take a small knapsack with some food in it, and now he was grateful for his commander's foresight. He ate, drank from a tiny brook that he heard trickling among the trees, and felt as if he had been made anew. He wisely protracted this stop to half an hour and then he went forward at an increased gait.
His flight, save for short rests, continued without interruption until morning. Always he looked about for a horse, intending in such an emergency to take a horse by force and gallop to Beauregard. But the country was populated very thinly and he saw none. He must continue to rely upon his own good lungs, strong muscles, and dauntless spirit.
Dawn came, bathing the hills in gray light and unveiling the green of the valleys below. Then the sun showed an edge of red fire in the east, and the full day was at hand. Harry saw below him many horsemen in smooth array. They seemed to have just started, as a huge campfire a little further up the valley was still burning.
To the weary and anxious boy it seemed a most gallant command, fresh as the dawn, splendid horses, splendid men, overflowing with life and strength and spirits. His eyes traveled to one who was a little in advance of all the others, and rested there. The figure that held his gaze was scarcely modern, it was more like that of a knight of old romance.
He saw a young man, tall, and built very powerfully, riding upon an immense black horse. His hair and beard were long and thick, of a golden brown that looked like pure flowing gold in the brilliant rays of the young sun. His coat had two rows of shining brass buttons down the front, and was sewn thickly with gold braid. Heavy gold braid covered the seams of his trousers and a great sash of yellow silk was tied around his waist. Spurs of gold gleamed in the sun. Long yellow gloves covered his hands. His hat was of the finest felt, the brim pinned back with a golden star, while a black ostrich plume waved over the crown.
Harry gazed at this singular and striking figure with wonder. He had seen in the pictures knights of old France wearing such a garb as this, and yet it did not seem so strange here. These were strange times.
Everything was out of the normal, and the brilliant colors which would have seemed so dandyish to him at other times appealed to him now.
He suddenly recalled that these men were in gray uniforms, and he, too, wore a gray uniform. They were his own people, cavalry of the Southern army. Recovering his presence of mind, he ran forward, shouting and waving his hands. The leader was the first to notice him and gave the order to halt. The whole command stopped with beautiful precision, the ranks remaining even. Then the leader, looking more than ever like a mediaeval knight, rode slowly forward on his great black horse to meet the youth who was running to meet him.
When Harry came near he saw that the man was young, under thirty.
He gazed steadily at the boy out of deep blue eyes, and his hair and beard rippled like molten gold under the light breeze.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Kenton, Henry Kenton, and I am a lieutenant in the regiment of the Invincibles, commanded by Colonel Leonidas Talbot! We were sent to take a fort on the other side of the mountain and took it, but the regiment is besieged there by a much larger Northern force, and I came through in the night for help."The man stroked his golden beard and a light leaped up in his eye.
Any dandyish or foppish quality that he might have seemed to have disappeared at once, and Harry saw only the soldier.
"Ah, I have heard of this expedition," he said, "and so the Invincibles are in a trap. We had started on another errand, but we will go to the relief of Colonel Talbot. My name is Stuart, lad, J. E. B. Stuart, and this is my command."It was Harry's first meeting with the famous Jeb Stuart, the most picturesque of all the Southern cavalry leaders, although not superior to the illiterate man of genius, Forrest. Stuart inspired supreme confidence in him. His manner, the very brilliancy of his clothes, seemed to say that here was one who would dare anything.
"We have some extra horses," said Stuart, "you shall mount one and guide us.""The country is very difficult for cavalry," said Harry. "The slopes are steep and are wooded heavily.""For ordinary cavalry, yes," replied Stuart, proudly, "but these horsemen of mine can go anywhere. But we will not rely upon cavalry alone. I will send two men at full speed to the main army for infantry reinforcements. Meanwhile, we will hurry forward."Mounted on a good horse, Harry felt like a new being, and his spirits rose rapidly as the whole troop set off at a swift pace. He rode by the side of Stuart, who asked him many questions. Harry saw that he was not only brilliant and dashing, but thorough. He was planning to relieve Colonel Talbot, but he had no intention of dashing into a trap.
Soon they were deep in the hills and here they picked up a weary youth, dodging about among the trees. It was St. Clair. He had run the gauntlet, but he had been pursued so hotly that he had been forced to lie hidden in the forest a long time. He had made his uniform look as spruce as possible and he held himself with dignity when the horsemen approached, but he could not conceal the fact that he was exhausted.
"I congratulate you, Harry," he said, when he also was astride a horse.
"It is likely that you are the only one who has got through so far.
