“A courier was sent in haste--I saw the commander-in-chief speaking to him. I followed--came up with him in a hollow of the woods--and was compelled to blow his brains out, as he would not surrender. I then searched his body, and found what I wanted. There it is general.” And Nighthawk drew forth a paper. “What is it?” exclaimed Stuart. “Grant’s confidential order to his corps commanders, general, directing the movements of his army.” Stuart seized it, read it hastily, and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. Ten minutes afterward he was going at full speed, accompanied by Nighthawk, toward General Lee’s head-quarters. XXI. “VIRGINIA EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY!” Soon after daylight, on the next morning, Stuart was up, and writing busily at his desk. He was perfectly cool, as always, and his manner when I went in exhibited no sort of flurry. But the couriers going and coming with dispatches indicated clearly that “something was in the wind.” I was seated by the fireplace when Stuart finished a dispatch and came toward me. The next moment he threw himself upon a chair, leaned his head upon my shoulder, and began to caress one of his dogs, who leaped into his lap. “Well, Surry, old fellow, we are going to get into the saddle. Look out for your head!” “Excellent advice,” I replied. “I recommend you to follow it.” “You think I expose myself, do you?” “In the most reckless manner.” “For instance--come, an instance!” he laughed. I saw Stuart was talking to rest himself. “Well, at Mine Run, when you rode up to that fence lined with sharpshooters--and they fired on us at ten paces, nearly.” “In fact, you might have shot a marble at them--but I am not afraid of any ball _aimed_ at me.”[1] [Footnote 1: His words.] “Then you believe in _chance_, general?” “There is no chance, Surry,” he said, gravely. “God rules over all things, and not a sparrow, we are told, can fall without his permission. How can I, or you, then?” “You are right, general, and I have always been convinced of your religious faith.” “I believe in God and our Saviour, with all my heart,” said Stuart, solemnly. “I may not show it, but I feel deeply.” “On the contrary, you show it--to me at least--even in trifles,” I said, moved by his earnestness. “Do you remember the other day, when an officer uttered a sneer at the expense of a friend of his who had turned _preacher_? You replied that the calling of a minister was the noblest in which any human being could engage[1]--and I regretted at that moment, that the people who laugh at you, and charge you with vicious things, could not hear you.” [Footnote 1: His words.] Stuart shook his head, smiling with a sadness on his lips which I had never seen before.