“Oughtn’t we to stop also and get news, if we can?”
“Of course. We must have a talk with Cousin Eliza.”
They emerged from the woods, opened the gate and rode upon the lawn. Not a ray of light came from the house anywhere. Every door and shutter was fast.
“Knock on the door with the hilt of your sword, Harry,” said Dalton. “It will bring Cousin Eliza. She can’t have gone to sleep yet.”
Harry dismounted and holding the reins of his horse over his arm, knocked loudly. There was no reply.
“Beat harder, Harry. She’s sure to hear.”
Harry beat upon that door until he bruised the hilt of his sword. At last it was thrown open violently, and a powerful woman of middle years appeared.
“I thought you Yankees had gone forever!” she exclaimed. “You’d better hurry or Stonewall Jackson will get you before morning!”
“We’re not Yankees, ma’am,” said Harry, politely. “We’re Southerners, Stonewall Jackson’s own men, scouts from his army, here looking for news of the enemy.”
“A fine tale, young man. You’re trying to fool me with your gray uniform. Stonewall Jackson’s men are fifteen miles north of here, chasing the Yankees by thousands into the Potomac. They say he does it just as well by night as by day, and that he never sleeps or rests.”
“What my comrade tells you is true. Good evening, Cousin Eliza!” said a gentle voice beyond Harry.
The woman started and then stepped out of the door. Dalton rode forward a little where the full moonlight fell upon him.
“You remember that summer six years ago when you spanked me for stealing the big yellow apples in the orchard.”
“George! Little George Dalton!” she cried, and as Dalton got off his horse she enclosed him in a powerful embrace, although he was little no longer.
“And have you come from Stonewall Jackson?” she asked breathless with eagerness.
“Straight from him. I’m on his staff and so is my friend here. This is Harry Kenton of Kentucky, Mrs. Pomeroy, and he’s been through all the battles with us. We were watching from the woods and we saw those Yankees at your door. They didn’t get any information, I know that, but I’m thinking that we will.”
Cousin Eliza Pomeroy laughed a low, deep laugh of pride and satisfaction.
“Come into the house,” she exclaimed. “I’m here with four children. Jim, my husband, is with Johnston’s army before Richmond, but we’ve been able to take care of ourselves thus far, and I reckon we’ll keep on being able. I can get hot coffee and good corn cakes ready for you inside of fifteen minutes.”
“It’s not food we want, Cousin Eliza,” said Dalton. “We want something far better, what those Yankees came for-news. So I think we’d better stay outside and run no risk of surprise. The Yankees might come back.”
“That’s so. You’ll grow up into a man with a heap of sense, George. I’ve got real news, and I was waiting for a chance to send it through to Stonewall Jackson. Billy! Billy!”
A small boy, not more than twelve, but clothed fully, darted from the inside of the house. He was well set up for his age, and his face was keen and eager.
“This is Billy Pomeroy, my oldest son,” said Cousin Eliza Pomeroy, with a swelling of maternal pride. “I made him get in bed and cover himself up, boots and all, when the Yankees came. Billy has been riding to-day. He ain’t very old, and he ain’t very big, but put him on a horse and he’s mighty nigh a man.”
The small, eager face was shining.
“What did you see, Billy, when you rode so far?” asked Dalton.
“Yankees! Yankees, Cousin George, and lots of ’em, toward Manassas Gap! I saw some of their cavalry this side of the Gap, and I heard at the store that there was a big army on the other side, marching hard to come through it, and get in behind our Stonewall.”
Harry looked at Dalton.
“That confirms the rumors we heard,” he said.
“You can believe anything that Billy tells you,” said Mrs. Pomeroy.
“I know it,” said Dalton, “but we’ve got to go on and see these men for ourselves. Stonewall Jackson is a terrible man, Cousin Eliza. If we tell him that the Yankees are coming through Manassas Gap and closing in on his rear, he’ll ask us how we know it, and when we reply that a boy told us he’ll break us as unfit to be on his staff.”