Stuart cantered on: we turned into the Brock road, and I found myself retracing my steps toward the Rapidan. As I passed near the lonely house, I cast a glance toward the glimmering light. Had Nighthawk’s friend arrived? We soon reached Ely’s Ford, and I conducted Stuart to Mordaunt’s bivouac, which I had left at dusk. He had just wrapped his cloak around him, and laid down under a tree, ready to mount at a moment’s warning. “What news, Mordaunt?” said Stuart, grasping his hand. “Some fighting this evening, but it ceased about nightfall, general.” Stuart looked toward the river, and listened attentively. “I hear nothing stirring.” And passing his hand through his beard he muttered half to himself:-- “I wonder if Grant can have made any change in his programme?” “The order at least was explicit--that brought by Nighthawk,” I said. Stuart turned toward me suddenly. “I wonder where he could be found? If I knew, I would send him over the river to-night, to bring me a reliable report of every thing.” I drew the general aside. “I can tell you where to find Nighthawk.” “Where.” “Shall I bring him?” “Like lightning, Surry! I wish to dispatch him at once!” Without reply I wheeled my horse, and went back rapidly toward the house in the Wilderness. I soon reached the spot, rode to the window, and called to Nighthawk, who came out promptly at my call. “Your friend has not arrived?” I said. “He will not come till midnight, colonel.” “When, I am afraid, he will not see you, Nighthawk--you are wanted.” And I explained my errand. Nighthawk sighed--it was easy to see that he was much disappointed. “Well, colonel,” he said, in a resigned tone, “I must give up my private business--duty calls. I will be ready in a moment.” And disappearing, he put out the light--issued forth in rear of the house--mounted a horse concealed in the bushes--and rejoined me in front. “Swartz will not know what to think,” he said, as we rode rapidly toward the river; “he knows I am the soul of punctuality, and this failure to keep my appointment will much distress him.” “Distress him, Nighthawk?” “He will think some harm has happened to me.” And Mr. Nighthawk smiled so sadly, that I could not refrain from laughter. We soon reached the spot where Stuart awaited us. At sight of Nighthawk he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction, and explained in brief words his wishes. “That will be easy, general,” said Nighthawk. “Can you procure a Federal uniform?” “I always travel with one, general.” And Mr. Nighthawk unstrapped the bundle behind his saddle, drawing forth a blue coat and trousers, which in five minutes had replaced his black clothes. Before us stood one of the “blue birds.” Nighthawk was an unmistakable “Yankee.”