In a field of about twenty acres, as if they had risen by magic, were scores of snowy tents. Sentries were on duty, their burnished arms glittering in the sun, and hundreds of gray-coated soldiers were passing and repassing, white clouds of smoke from their camp-fires rose in the frosty air. While the old man was looking beyond the streets and houses at the encampment on the hill, a neighbor, walking up the other side of the street, hailed him with: "Rather sudden appearance ain't it?" pointing to the camp, over which the Confederate flag was floating. "When did they come, Mr. Williams?" said the first old man. "Last night," replied Mr. Williams, crossing over to where the other stood. "Can't you guess what's in the wind?" "No," was the answer. Mr. Williams, a corpulent, smooth-faced man of sixty, smiled. "Why, you see, the boys are strong enough now to take the Junction, and they are on their way." "How many are they?" asked the first old man, who was tall and thin, with long, gray beard. He spoke evidently with some concern. "About three thousand in all, with five pieces of artillery." The cannon and the ammunition wagons were plainly to be seen from the street. "And so they are on their way to fight the Abolitionists at the Junction?" said the first old man thoughtfully. "Yes, Mr. Jones, and your son, Hiram, is in that crowd and my son, Seth. They'll make it quite lively for old Colonel Holdfast," replied Mr. Williams. "Yes, they will," said Mr. Jones, stroking his gray beard. The sun rose higher in the heavens, and the frosty air grew warm and genial. By nine o'clock the forces were in motion, the long lines of cavalry and infantry proceeding slowly and cautiously towards the Junction. The good citizens of Snagtown had recovered from the excitement, into which the appearance of the troops had thrown them, and the church bells were calling them to worship, when the boom of the cannon shook the hills. All was instant excitement. The cannon shot came from the direction in which the troops had gone. It was followed by another and another, until the roar of artillery shook the hills and valleys for miles around, and then the rattle of grape and canister was borne to the ears of the villagers. Plainly a fight was going on. The firing lasted about half an hour, then it began to slacken, and at last, ceased, excepting an occasional dropping musket shot. The villagers were gathered about in anxious groups, when a single horseman, dressed in gray, galloped furiously into the village. The men crowded eagerly about him to inquire how the battle had gone. "There had been no battle," he said, "but their advance guard had met the advance guard of the Union troops, and a skirmish had ensued, a battery on either side having opened. "We are falling back to more advantageous ground," he added, "and will be in the village in fifteen minutes."