I laughed, bade Nighthawk good-bye, and left him smiling as I had found him. In ten minutes I was again on the Brock road, riding on through the darkness, between the impenetrable thickets. XXVI. STUART SINGS. My reflections were by no means gay. The scenes at the lonely house had not been cheerful and mirth-inspiring. That grinning corpse, with the crust of bread in the bony fingers; that stain of blood on the floor; the grave of Achmed; lastly, the appointment of the mysterious Nighthawk with the Federal spy; all were fantastic and lugubrious. Who was Nighthawk, and what was his connection with Mohun? Who was Mohun, and what had been his previous history? Who was this youth of unbounded wealth, as Nighthawk had intimated, in whose life personages supposed to be dead, but still alive, had figured? “Decidedly, Mohun and Nighthawk are two enigmas!” I muttered, “and I give the affair up.” With which words I spurred on, and soon debouched on the Orange plank road, leading toward Mine Run. As I entered it, I heard hoof-strokes on the resounding boards, and a company of horsemen cantered toward me through the darkness. As they came, I heard a gay voice singing the lines:-- “I wake up in the morning, I wake up in the morning, I wake up in the morning, Before the break o’ day!” There was no mistaking that gay sound. It was Stuart, riding at the head of his staff and couriers. In a moment he had come up, and promptly halted me. “Ah! that’s you, Surry!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “wandering about here in the Wilderness! What news?” I reported the state of things in front, and Stuart exclaimed:-- “All right; we are ready for them! Coon Hollow is evacuated--head-quarters are in the saddle! Hear that whippoorwill! It is a good omen. Whip ‘em well! Whip ‘em well!--and we’ll do it too!”[1] Stuart laughed, and began to sing-- “Never mind the weather But get over double trouble! We are bound for the Happy land of Lincoln!” [Footnote 1: His words.] As the martial voice rang through the shadowy thickets, I thought, “How fortunate it is that the grave people are not here to witness this singular ‘want of dignity’ in the great commander of Lee’s cavalry!” Those “grave people” would certainly have rolled their eyes, and groaned, “Oh! how undignified!” Was not the occasion solemn? Was it not sinful to laugh and sing? No, messieurs! It was right; and much better than rolling the eyes, and staying at home and groaning! Stuart was going to fight hard--meanwhile he sang gayly. Heaven had given him animal spirits, and he laughed in the face of danger. He laughed and sang on this night when he was going to clash against Grant, as he had laughed and sung when he had clashed against Hooker--when his proud plume floated in front of Jackson’s veterans, and he led them over the breastworks at Chancellorsville, singing, “Old Joe Hooker, will you come out of the Wilderness!”