Nothing further of note occurred until the little army, after two hours of plodding march, wound through a sinuous, wooded ravine, entered a broad, bare, slightly undulating valley, and for the second time halted. Waldron galloped to the summit of a knoll, pointed to a long eminence which faced him some two miles distant, and said tranquilly, "There is our battle-ground." "Is that the enemy's position?" returned Captain Ives, his adjutant-general. "We shall have a tough job if we go at it from here." Waldron remained in deep thought for some minutes, meanwhile scanning the ridge and all its surroundings. "What I want to know," he observed, at last, "is whether they have occupied the wooded knolls in front of their right and around their right flank." Shortly afterward the commander of the scouting squadron came riding back at a furious pace. "They are on the hill. Colonel," he shouted. "Yes, of course," nodded Waldron; "but have they occupied the woods which veil their right front and flank?" "Not a bit of it; my fellows have cantered all through, and up to the base of the hill." "Ah!" exclaimed the brigade commander, with a rush of elation. "Then it will be easy work. Go back, Captain, and scatter your men through the wood, and hold it, if possible. Adjutant, call up the regimental commanders at once. I want them to understand my plan fully." In a few minutes, Gahogan, of the Tenth; Gilder-sleeve, of the Fourteenth; Peck, of the First; Thomas, of the Seventh; Taylor, of the Eighth, and Colburn, of the Fifth, were gathered around their commander. There, too, was Bradley, the boyish, red-cheeked chief of the artillery; and Stilton, the rough, old, bearded regular, who headed the cavalry. The staff was at hand, also, including Fitz Hugh, who sat his horse a little apart, downcast and sombre and silent, but nevertheless keenly interested. It is worthy of remark, by the way, that Waldron took no special note of him, and did not seem conscious of any disturbing presence. Evil as the man may have been, he was a thoroughly good soldier, and just now he thought but of his duties. "Gentlemen," he said, "I want you to see your field of battle. The enemy occupy that long ridge. How shall we reach it?" "I think, if we go at it straight from here, we shan't miss it," promptly judged Old Crumps, his red-oak countenance admirably cheerful and hopeful, and his jealousy all dissolved in the interest of approaching combat. "Nor they won't miss us nuther," laughed Major Gahogan. "Betther slide our infantree into thim wuds, push up our skirmishers, play wid our guns for an hour, an' thin rowl in a couple o' col'ms." There was a general murmur of approval. The limits of volunteer invention in tactics had been reached by Gahogan. The other regimental commanders looked upon him as their superior in the art of war.