The corps is moving westward along one of the great Continental high-roads. A vast forest spreading on each side for many miles confines the troops to the actual roadway. The cavalry division is looking out for the enemy in the open country twenty miles in advance to the west of the forest. Parties of hussars in every road, lane, and bypath are watching the country as they move on across a front of eight or nine miles, followed two or three miles behind on the main road by the rest of the division, a column two miles long of dragoons, uhlans, and horse artillery. At the head of this column is the lieutenant-general commanding the cavalry division, with his staff. It is ten o'clock in the morning, and under the hot July sun a cloud of dust envelops all but the leading squadron as horse and guns move on at a steady trot. Now and then a fitful breeze carries the dust towards the south and reveals for a moment the long cavalcade. The pace has just slackened to a walk as two horsemen gallop towards the road from the north-west. They are a young officer of hussars and a private whose bandaged arm shows that he has been wounded. Both are covered with dust, and their horses show signs of extreme fatigue. As they approach the road the general and his suite move on to a pasture field to the right to meet them, the column continuing along the road. The lieutenant respectfully salutes and tells his story briefly. A few questions are asked and answered. The column is halted, and during the short rest which ensues the general dictates a note which is written by one of his officers. The note is handed to an uhlan, who gallops off at once along the road towards the rear. A few minutes later the signal to mount is given, and the whole mass of horsemen and guns in a succession of parallel columns leaves the road and trots over the fields to the north-west, soon disappearing in a fold of the ground. The uhlan sent back with the letter approaches after a five-mile gallop a group of comrades lying by the roadside, with their horses tethered near in the grass. One of the horses is saddled and bridled, and as the messenger comes up its rider springs into the saddle. A few sentences are exchanged as the new-comer, dismounting, hands the note to the fresh rider, who in turn gallops off along the road towards the rear. Three times the note thus changes hands. The fourth rider, whose station was five miles from the western edge of the forest region, is continually meeting troops on the march. He passes first a few squadrons of cuirassiers, then a mile or two further infantry, guns, more infantry, and then a string of waggons a mile long, laden with cartridges, shell, bridging material, and appliances for the comfort of wounded men. All this is merely the advanced guard of the army corps. As the rider draws nearer to the wood he finds a mile of clear road, and then meets the general commanding the corps to whom his note is addressed.