Having delivered my message to General Hampton, who received it with his air of grave, yet cordial courtesy, I turned to shake hands with Captain Church--a thorough-bred young officer, as brave as steel, and one of my best friends--when an exclamation from the staff attracted my attention, and looking round, I saw the cause. At the opposite extremity of the extensive field, a solitary horseman was seen darting out of the woods occupied by the Federal infantry, and this man was obviously a deserter, making his way into our lines. At a sign from General Hampton, Captain Church went to meet him, and as my horse was fresh, I accompanied my friend in his ride. The deserter came on at full speed to meet us, and for a moment, his horse skimmed the dusky expanse like a black-winged bird.[1] Then, all at once, his speed moderated; he approached at a jog-trot, and through the gathering gloom I recognised, above the blue uniform, the sweetly smiling countenance of Nighthawk! [Footnote 1: This scene is real.] “Good evening, colonel,” said Nighthawk; “I am glad to see you again, and hope you are well.” “So you have turned deserter, Nighthawk?” I said, laughing heartily. “Precisely, colonel. I could not get off before. Will you inform me where I can find General Stuart?” “I will take you to him.” And riding back with Captain Church and Nighthawk, I soon found myself again in presence of General Hampton. A word from me explained the real character of the pseudo-deserter. General Hampton asked a number of questions, Nighthawk replied to them, and then the latter begged me to conduct him to General Stuart. I did so without delay, and we soon reached Stuart’s bivouac, where he was talking with his staff by a camp-fire. At sight of the blue figure he scarcely turned; then suddenly he recognized Nighthawk, and burst into laughter. “Well, my blue night-bird!” he exclaimed, “here you are at last! What news? Is Grant going to cross the river?” Nighthawk hung his head, and sighed audibly. “I could not help it, general.” “Why didn’t you come before?” “It was impossible, general.” Stuart shook his head. “Strike that word out of your dictionary, my friend.”[1] [Footnote 1: His words.] “That is good advice, general; but this time they nonplussed me. They blocked every road, and I had to join their army.” “Well, I hope you got the $600 bounty,” said Stuart, laughing. “That was another impossibility, general; but I enjoyed the very best society yonder.” “What society, Nighthawk?” “That of Grant, Meade, and Sedgwick.” “Ah! my old friend, General Sedgwick! But where are Grant’s headquarters, Nighthawk? Tell me every thing!” “At Old Wilderness Tavern, general.” “And you saw him there?” “In the midst of his generals,--I was temporarily one of his couriers.” “I understand. Well, their intended movements?” Nighthawk shook his head. “I could have foretold you those of to-day, general.” “How?”