Dismounting, I examined his foot. The sharp point had entered it, and it was bleeding profusely. The accident was unfortunate--and, attempting to ride on, I found the hurt worse than I had expected. My gray staggered on as if the limb were broken. I dismounted once more, led him slowly by the bridle, and continued my way on foot. A quarter of a mile farther, the animal was in such agony that I looked around for some light, by which to examine the hurt more fully. On the right, a glimmer was seen through the trees. I made straight toward it, through the woods, and soon found myself near a group of tents, one of which was lit up. “Whose head-quarters are these?” I asked of a man on post, near. “Mine, my dear colonel,” said a voice in the darkness near. “My candle yonder is hospitable and enables me to recognize you.” With which words the figure advanced into the light, and I recognized the tall and stately form of General Davenant. He gave me his hand cordially, and I explained my dilemma. “You are unfortunate, but fortunate, too,” said Davenant, “as I have a man among my couriers who knows all about horses. I will send yours to him; meanwhile come into my tent.” And intrusting my horse to the orderly with some brief directions, the general led the way into his head-quarters tent. A cheerful fire burned in the rude log-built chimney. On one side were a plain desk and two camp-stools; on the other a rough couch of pine logs, filled with straw, and spread with blankets. Upon the blankets a boy of about fourteen was sound asleep, the light auburn curls tossed in disorder over the rosy young face. At a glance I recognized the youth who had entered the ranks at Gettysburg, taken part in Pickett’s charge, and been borne out through the smoke, wounded and bleeding, in the arms of his father. The young Charley had evidently recovered, and was as ruddy as before. His little braided jacket was as jaunty, his face as smiling, as on that evening near Paris. An hour afterward, General Davenant and myself were conversing like old friends. We were by no means strangers, as I had repeatedly been thrown with him in the army, and my intimacy with Will doubtless commended me to the brave soldier’s regard. An accident now seemed about to make us still better acquainted. The orderly had reported that it would be impossible to proceed farther with my horse that night, and I had accepted the invitation of General Davenant to remain with him until morning. “My brigade is holding the right of the army, colonel,” he had said; “we have just moved to this position, and have not had time to become very comfortable. But I can offer you a tolerable supper and a camp-bed after it, with a warm welcome, I assure you.” I declined the supper, but accepted the bed; and seated opposite the grizzled old cavalier, in his gray uniform, had begun to converse.