“Very good. Return to the ranks. Company, attention! Forward march! Left wheel! Forward march! Left wheel! Forward march!” came the various commands, and in half a minute the volunteers were moving in the direction from whence they had come. Louis wondered if they were really going to retreat, but he did not have to wonder long. In five minutes they reached a spot where the road widened and where at one side was a patch of rocky woodland, fringed by a strip of heavy but low brush. Here Captain Paulding halted his command and drew them up in a single line just in front of the brush. “Men, we will wait here until the enemy appears,” he said, quietly but firmly. “If they show a disposition to pass us without trouble, well and good. If they want to fight, leap behind the brush and wait for the command to fire. If we can’t hold the brush, we will take to the woods, where, if they want to follow us, they’ll have to do it on foot.” Having thus shown his military sagacity, Captain Paulding set the command at rest and went among “his boys” to encourage them to keep calm. The drummer boy was sent to the rear and every gun and pistol was examined to see that it was properly loaded. A cloud of dust soon indicated the approach of the cavalry, and in a minute more they rode into sight. As they came closer Louis noted that the captain he had spoken to at the brook was at their head. The volunteers were not discovered until the two commands were less than three hundred feet apart, for the cavalry had not expected trouble in that vicinity and had no guard in advance. The instant the volunteers were sighted the captain called a halt. There was a few seconds of consultation, then the cavalry leader rode forward holding up a white handkerchief. With his own handkerchief over his shoulder, Captain Paulding went forward to meet him. The two saluted in true military style. “What company is that?” demanded the Confederate. “The Goreville Volunteers, United States Army, from Pennsylvania, unattached. What cavalry is that?” “Nelson’s Potomac Chargers, unattached, of the South,” the last words with peculiar emphasis. “Where are you going?” “To Washington. And you?” “To Frederick.” Then came a pause. Both leaders looked each other squarely in the eyes. “Do you anticipate trouble on the road, captain?” asked the Confederate, with a faint smile. “I’m not looking for trouble, captain; but I am ready to meet it if it comes.” “Are you holding this road?” “Oh, no.” “Then I reckon I’ll bid you good day and go on.” “Good day, captain.” Again the two saluted, and each went back to his command. In a minute more the cavalrymen rode by, their sabers clanking loudly. They were certainly a fine body of men. A few scowled at the volunteers, a few smiled, and the majority, including the officers, looked straight ahead, as though the company along the roadside had never existed. Five minutes more, and the dust again swallowed them from view.