“What’s in those wagons—the long white ones with six horses?” “Danged if I know!” “Boys, _I_ know! Them’s pontoons!” “_Pontoons!_ We’re going to cross the Potomac!” On went the infantry, over country roads, through the forest, over open fields. There were no fences now in this region, and few, few standing crops. All day the infantry streamed by, going toward the Blue Ridge. Before sunset blew the trumpets of Stuart. “Boot and saddle!” quoth the men. “Now we are going, too!” Ewell and the Second Corps, far in advance of the First, the Third and the cavalry, pierced the Blue Ridge at Chester Gap. “Old Dick” had left a leg at Groveton, but he himself was here, going ahead of his troops, a graver man than of old, but irascible yet, quaintly lovable yet and well loved. Behind him he heard the tramp of his thousands, Jubal Early’s division, Edward Johnson’s division, the division of Rodes. They were going back to the Valley, and they were going to take Winchester, held by Milroy and eight thousand. The Stonewall Brigade, led now by Walker, was numbered in Edward Johnson’s division. It marched near the head of the column, and it gazed with an experienced eye upon the wall of the Blue Ridge. How many times, O Mars, how many times! Up, up the June heights wound the column, between leafy towers, by running water, beneath a cloudless sky. The Sixty-fifth Virginia, Colonel Erskine, broke into song. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, An’ never brought to mind ... For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne—”