The army went swiftly across forest and fields. As the brigade had marched back the night before, so the whole army marched forward to-day. The fact that Jackson’s men always marched faster than other men was forced again upon Harry’s attention. He remembered from his reading an old comment of Napoleon’s referring to war that there were only two or three men in Europe who knew the value of time. Now he saw that at least one man in America knew its value, and knew it as fully as Napoleon ever did.
The day passed hour by hour and the army sped on, making only a short halt at noon for rest and food. Harry joined the Invincibles for a few moments and was received with warmth by Colonel Leonidas Talbot, Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire and all his old friends.
“I am sorry to lose you, Harry,” said Colonel Talbot, “but I am glad that you are on the immediate staff of General Jackson. It’s an honor. I feel already that we’re in the hands of a great general, and the feeling has gone through the whole army. There’s an end, so far as this force is concerned, to doubt and hesitation.”
“And we, the Southerners who are called the cavaliers, are led by a puritan,” said Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire. “Because if there ever was a puritan, General Jackson is one.”
Harry passed on, intending to speak with his comrades, Langdon and St. Clair. He heard the young troops talking freely everywhere, never forgetting the fact that they were born free citizens as good as anybody, and never hesitating to comment, often in an unflattering way, upon their officers. Harry saw a boy who had just taken off his shoes and who was tenderly rubbing his feet.
“I never marched so fast before,” he said complainingly. “My feet are sore all over.”
“Put on your shoes an’ shut up,” said another boy. “Stonewall Jackson don’t care nothin’ about your feet. You’re here to fight.”
Harry walked on, but the words sank deep in his mind. It was an uneducated boy, probably from the hills, who had given the rebuke, but he saw that the character of Stonewall Jackson was already understood by the whole army, even to the youngest private. He found Langdon and St. Clair sitting together on a log. They were not tired, as they were mounted officers, but they were full of curiosity.
“What’s passing through Old Jack’s head?” asked Langdon, the irreverent and the cheerful.
“I don’t know, and I don’t suppose anybody will ever know all that’s passing there.”
“I’ll wager my year’s pay against a last year’s bird nest that he isn’t leading us away from the enemy.”
“He certainly isn’t doing that. We’re moving on two little towns, Bath and Hancock, but there must be bigger designs beyond.”
“This is New Year’s Day, as you know,” said St. Clair in his pleasant South Carolina drawl, “and I feel that Tom there is going to earn the year’s pay that he talks so glibly about wagering.”
“At any rate, Arthur,” said Langdon, “if we go into battle you’ll be dressed properly for it, and if you fall you’ll die in a gentleman’s uniform.”
St. Clair smiled, showing that he appreciated Langdon’s flippant comment. Harry glanced at him. His uniform was spotless, and it was pressed as neatly as if it had just come from the hands of a tailor. The gray jacket of fine cloth, with its rows of polished brass buttons, was buttoned as closely as that of a West Point cadet. He seemed to be in dress and manner a younger brother of the gallant Virginia captain, Philip Sherburne, and Harry admired him. A soldier who dressed well amid such trying obstacles was likely to be a soldier through and through. Harry was learning to read character from extraneous things, things that sometimes looked like trifles to others.
“I merely came over here to pass the time of day,” he said. “We start again in two or three minutes. Hark, there go the bugles, and I go with them!”
He ran back, sprang on his horse a few seconds before Jackson himself was in the saddle, and rode away again.