It was a wonderful period of mental development for this wild young creature of the woods, when Hilary received in his sudden transition to the “valley kentry” his first adequate impressions of civilization. He learned that the world is wide; he beheld the triumphs of military science; he acquiesced in the fixed distinctions of rank, since he must needs concede the finer grades of capacity. But courage, the inherent, inimitable endowment, he recognized as the soul of heroism, and in all the arrogance of elation he became conscious that he possessed it. This it was that opened his stolid mind to the allurements of ambition. He rejoiced in an aspiration. He was brave. That was his identity--his essential vitality! Was he ignorant, poor, the butt of the campfire jokes, because of his simplicity in the wide world’s ways, slothful, slow, wild, and turbulent? He took heed of none of this! He was the bravest of the brave--and all the command knew it! With an exultant heart he realized that Captain Bertley was aware of the fact, and often took account of it in laying his plans. The regiment of which this squadron was a part belonged to one of those brigades of light cavalry whose utility was chiefly in quick movements, in harassing an enemy’s march, in following up and hanging on his retreat, and sometimes in making swift forced marches, appearing unexpectedly in distant localities far from the main body and adding the element of surprise to a sudden and furious onslaught. Often Hilary was among a few picked men sent out to reconnoiter, or as the rear-guard when the little band was retreating before a superior force and it was necessary to fight and flee alternately. It was now and again in these skirmishes that he had the opportunity to show his pluck and his strength and his cool head and his ready hand. More than once he had been the bearer of dispatches of great importance sent by him alone, disguised in citizen’s dress and his destination a long way off. Thus did the captain commanding the squadron demonstrate his confidence in the boy’s fidelity and courage and resource. For his ready wit in an emergency was hardly less than his courage. “What did you do, then, with the Colonel’s letter that you were to deliver at brigade head-quarters?” asked the Captain in much agitation, but with a voice like thunder and a flashing eye, when one day Hilary returned from a fruitless expedition, with his finger in his mouth, so to speak, and a tale of having encountered Federal scouts, who had stopped and questioned him, and finally after suspiciously searching him, had turned him loose, believing him nothing more than he seemed--a peaceful, ignorant country boy.