“Do you know who it was, Harry? Sam Jacks, Caleb Fox, and their followers.” “Really!” “Yes, and that’s not all. The whole crowd are nothing but common thieves,” and in a few brief words Louis related what had occurred. “I’m mighty glad they don’t belong to our side,” he concluded. “Such rascals don’t belong to either side, Louis,” answered Harry, gravely. “Why General Johnson, or Longstreet, or Hill, or any of those Confederate leaders would shoot ’em on sight, you know that as well as I do.” There was no time to say more, for some of the Union men were coming back, shouting that the rebel force were too much for them. Limping painfully, Louis followed his friends back to the camp of the Goreville Volunteers, and was not long in getting to bed. A desultory firing was kept up all night, but no further raids upon either side were attempted. On the following morning a discovery awaited the Union leaders. During the blackness of the night and the noise of the storm the greater part of the Confederate forces had withdrawn from Williamsburg, thus continuing their retreat towards Richmond. The way was now once more clear to the Union forces. On the 8th of May the onward march was resumed, not directly for Richmond, but towards White House, which was to be the base of supplies during the final advance upon the Confederate capital. The march to the great plain before White House occupied, in one way and another, a week, and during that time a branch of the army, as before stated, fought and sent the Confederates flying from West Point, not many miles distant. The march, on account of the miserable weather and the wretched condition of the roads, was a weary one and was not totally devoid of peril. On the way the baggage train sought to take a side road, thinking to find a better bottom for horses and wagons. The train was barely out of sight of the regular troops when some Confederate cavalry and soldiers dashed down upon it, sending all in confusion. Andy took part in this raid, and it is but proper that we should tell here of what happened to him. He was resting flat on his back on a bed made of brush when the order came, “To horse--we move in five minutes!” Weary still from a long, stubborn fight on the road north of Williamsburg, where the Montgomery Grays had handsomely repulsed a regiment of Union soldiers in their fierce struggle to outflank them, Andy leaped up and made ready to leave. Leroy had warned him, although Andy had heard the bugle, in a half-dreamy way, being on the verge of dropping to sleep. “Where are we going, Leroy?” “After the Yankees’ baggage train, Andy. The general got wind of it somehow that we may be able to steal some of their wagons. That will be sport--if we can get hold of anything good to eat.” “I reckon they haven’t anything much better than ourselves,” said Andy, as he buckled on his saber and saw to it that his trappings were secure and Firefly was in proper fettle.