War was a new, strange, and terrible thing to George Lawton. For a few minutes after his thrilling adventure, while the soldiers were binding with bed-cords the wrists of the three unscathed captives, and Stark and Flint were ministering to the wounded officer, Snipe leaned against a tree, the same feeling of nausea and faintness overcoming him now as it did one day when he saw the brutal beating of an Irish wagoner on Fourth Avenue. Others of the New England men were searching the premises from garret to cellar, finding no human beings but two trembling old negroes, who had never been allowed to regard themselves as possessed of any rights a white man was bound to respect. The prisoners, sullen, scowling, and very much amazed that such a thing could happen on the sacred soil of Virginia, refused to answer questions as to the owners of the place. The young officer was only just recovering from the swoon that followed upon the shock of his wound, but the darkies humbly told all they knew. They were household servants,--slaves, of course. The farm was owned by a wealthy resident of Alexandria. The farmer and his family had gone. The young officer was "Marse Grayson," a nephew of the owner. The other gentlemen belonged to his troop in the cavalry, and there were four more of them somewhere over toward Centreville. They had been round there for several days, and signalling to their comrades over where "Marse Henry" and "Marse Robinson" lived, on the heights beyond Bull Run. Up in the attic the New-Englanders found candles, a polished tin reflector, and a flat board screen that just fitted in the window. A fine telescope and smaller field-glass were also there. A bountiful spread was on the table in the dining-room. The larder and cellar were well stocked, and the men from the land of steady habits did not disdain to "sample" the fluid refreshment found in the cool depths below the house or the delicacies in the pantry. Out in a wooden shed were four fine horses, with new saddles and bridles. Opulence was the rule in the Confederacy the first few months of the war; and now the sergeant and half a dozen men moved out to the front gate to look for those four troopers who were supposed to interpose between their feasting comrades and the possibility of surprise from the direction of the Yankees, and who, so early in the war, had not dreamed of foemen coming from the south. Possibly they had heard the sound of shots at the farm-house and would come galloping back to ascertain the cause. The young officer was reviving. The flow of blood was stanched. He was laid upon a mattress and, with six men to carry him, was started down the slope toward the main body at the bridge. Stark then ordered the party to bring the horses, captives, arms,--everything that could be considered legitimate spoil of war,--and follow at once. The signal outfit was smashed, and Flint, a veteran of the old Covenanter type, was for burning the house,