Stuart led the charge, and seemed to enjoy it with the zest of a fox-hunter. He had indeed escaped from a critical danger. He had pushed on with a few of his staff, as I have said, to Fairfax Station, had then stopped and slipped his bridle to allow his horse to eat some “Yankee oats,” and while standing beside the animal, had been suddenly charged by the party of Federal cavalry, coming down on a reconnaissance from the direction of the Court-House. So sudden was their appearance that he was nearly “gobbled up.” He had leaped on the unbridled horse; seized the halter, and fled at full speed. The enemy had pursued him; he had declined halting--and the reader has seen the sequel.[1] [Footnote 1: Real.] Stuart pressed the party hotly toward Sanxter’s, but they escaped--nearly capturing on the way, however, a party of officers at a blacksmith’s shop. The general came back in high good humor. The chase seemed to have delighted him. “Bully for old Tom Herbert!” he exclaimed. “You ought to have seen him when they were cutting at him, and spoiling his fine new satchel!” Tom Herbert did not seem to participate in the general’s mirth. He was examining the satchel which a sabre stroke had nearly cut in two. “What are you looking at?” asked Stuart. “This hole, general,” replied Tom, uttering a piteous sigh. “Well, it is a trifle.” “It is a serious matter, general.” “You have lost something?” “Yes.” “What?” “A joint of my new flute.” And Tom Herbert’s expression was so melancholy that Stuart burst into laughter. “You may have lost your flute, Tom,” he said, leaning on his shoulder, “but you have won your spurs at least, in the cavalry!” XVIII. DROWSYLAND. At daylight, on the next morning, Stuart had crossed the Potomac into Maryland. He had advanced from Wolf Run Shoals to Fairfax Court House, where the men rifled the sutlers’ shops of tobacco, figs, white gloves, straw hats, and every edible and wearable:--then the column pushed on toward Seneca Falls, where the long wavering line of horsemen might have been seen hour after hour crossing the moonlit river, each man, to prevent wetting, holding above his head a shot or shell taken from the caissons. Then the artillery was dragged through: the panting horses trotted on, and the first beams of day saw the long column of Stuart ready to advance on its perilous pathway to the Susquehanna, by the route between the Federal army and Washington. The word was given, and with the red flags fluttering, Stuart moved toward Rockville, unopposed, save by a picket, which was driven off by the advance guard. Without further incident, he then pushed on, and entered the town in triumph.