While on the thirteenth, Early advanced upon Winchester by the Valley Pike, Edward Johnson’s division, Nounnan’s cavalry going ahead, kept to the Front Royal and Winchester road. Two miles from the town they made a line of battle and began to skirmish. There was a blue battery upon the Millwood road, and to meet it Carpenter’s guns were brought up. A dozen blue pieces upon this side of Winchester opened fire and for hours there went on a slow cannonade. On the morning of the fourteenth the division moved forward, the Stonewall leading, and renewed the skirmishing. In the afternoon they heard the roar of Early’s guns. The Fifth Virginia was thrown forward, across the Millwood road to the low hills fronting the town. The blue held in some strength the scrubby crest of this ridge. The Fifth had sharp skirmishing. Behind it came two companies of the Sixty-fifth, turned a little to the left, and began sharpshooting from a screen of pine and oak. “Sergeant Maydew,” said a captain, “take six men and go occupy that scrub-oak clump down there. Watch that ravine and pick them off if they come up it.” Billy Maydew and the six fairly filled the tuft of bushes halfway down the hill. “Jest as snug as a bug in a rug!” “They’ll get it hot if they come up that gully! It’s a beautiful—what did Steve use to call it?—‘avalanche’!” “I kind of miss Steve. He had his uses. He’d keep up even a yaller dog’s self-esteem. Even a turkey-buzzard could say, ‘I am better than thou.’ Every time I got down in the mouth and began to think of my sins I just looked at Steve and felt all right.” “Reckon the army’ll ever get him again? Reckon his sore foot’ll ever get well?” “He’d better not come back to the Sixty-fifth,” said Sergeant Billy Maydew. He spoke with slow emphasis. “The day Steve Dagg comes back to the Sixty-fifth Billy Maydew air goin’ to be marched to the guardhouse for killing a polecat.” The six smiled, smiled with grimness. “Ef you do it, Sergeant, reckon the Sixty-fifth, from the colonel down, ’ll appear for you and swear you did a public service!” Dave Maydew moved his head aside, then softly raised his rifle. The others did likewise. There was a pause so utter that they heard each other’s breathing and the dry _Zrrrr!_ of a distant grasshopper. Dave lowered the rifle. “I see now! ’T wa’n’t nothing but a squirrel.” “Reckon ’t won’t do to shoot him? Squirrel stew—” “Don’t you dar!” said Billy. “There air to be no firing out of this oak clump ex-cept upon the enemy.”