Over these, half shaved, the general stooped, razor in hand, eyes following her forefinger as she traced in silence the lines she had drawn. There was no need for her to speak, no reason for him to inquire; her maps were perfectly clear, every route named, every regiment, every battery labeled, every total added up. Without a word she called his attention to the railroad and the note regarding the number of trains. "We've got to get at it, somehow," he said. "What are those?" "Siege batteries, General--on the march." His mutilated mouth relaxed into a grin. "They seem to be allfired sure of us. What are they saying down below?" [Illustration: "'They seem to be allfired sure of us.'"] "They talk of being in Washington by the fifteenth, sir." "Oh.... What's that topographical symbol--here?" placing one finger on the map. "That is the Moray Mansion--or was." "_Was?_" "Our cavalry burned it two weeks ago Thursday." "Find anything to help you there?" She nodded. The general returned to his shaving, completed it, came back and examined the papers again. "That infantry, there," he said, "are you sure it's Longstreet's?" "Yes, sir." "You didn't see Longstreet, did you?" "Yes, sir; and talked with him." The general's body servant knocked, announcing breakfast, and left the general's boots and tunic, both carefully brushed. When he had gone out again, the Special Messenger said very quietly: "I expect to report on the Moray matter before night." The general buckled in his belt and hooked up his sword. "If you can nail that fellow," he said, speaking very slowly, "I guess you can come pretty close to getting whatever you ask for from Washington." For a moment she stood very silent there, her ripped jacket hanging limp over her arm; then, with a pallid smile: "Anything I ask for? Did you say that, sir?" He nodded. "Even if I ask for--his pardon?" The general laughed a distorted laugh. "I guess we'll bar that," he said. "Will you breakfast, ma'am? The next room is free, if you want it." Headquarters bugles began to sound as she crossed the hall, jacket dangling over her arm, and pushed open the door of a darkened room. The air within was stifling, she opened a window and thrust back the blinds, and at the same moment the ringing crack of a rifled cannon shattered the silence of dawn. Very, very far away a dull boom replied. Outside, in dusky obscurity, cavalry were mounting; a trooper, pumping water from a well under her window, sang quietly to himself in an undertone as he worked, then went off carrying two brimming buckets. The sour, burned stench of stale campfires tainted the morning freshness. She leaned on the sill, looking out into the east. Somewhere yonder, high against the sky, they were signaling with torches. She watched the red flames swinging to right, to left, dipping, circling; other sparks broke out to the north, where two army corps were talking to each other with fire.