A grizzled Colonel of Cavalry rode by. Under his shaggy eye-brows he shot a glance at the helpless battery, and swore. He dated back to Indian times, and they said of him in the army that he knew nothing except cavalry tactics and horses. But he knew them; and he was breaking his old heart over the militia cavalry that had come under his command. Some he had that were good enough to win his full praise; but none of these was full as to quota of men. The Colonel of the best of the regiments was riding at his side. It was an organized force of rich men, each of whom had brought his own mount, trained as carefully as any cavalry horse, and perfectly equipped. “Fine, sir, fine!” said the old Indian fighter. “But oh! Wait till you see what arrived last week. They can ride! Yes, sir, they can ride. Heaven knows how they learned it, for they didn’t ever have a mount except what they hired in livery stables. A rich State, too, and one that did its infantry damned well, damned well, sir. It was supposed to be a regiment of cavalry that we were to get. Do you know what arrived? Two squadrons! And, sir, they came afoot. They served a State that evidently prefers horseless cavalry.”[18] He chewed his cigar and threw it away. “Look over there!” he continued. “See those chaps? They were among the first to come to us. Yes, sir. The entire cavalry force of that State came out--the entire force, you understand. D’you want to know how many there were? Three troops,--three--troops--confound me, sir. Not a whole squadron. But as these three troops were in three different parts of the State they hadn’t even been drilled to move together in their little three troops as one body. We’re just getting ’em so that they can ride in squadron without smashing into some other troop and crumpling the whole outfit to Hades.”[19] _State Troops Without Medical Supplies, Shoes, Overcoats_ Even while the old cavalry leader was swearing, a delegation of civilians, sent to visit the camp officially, was gathered at headquarters. The visitors were haggard and worried: but, with the ever-ready optimism of the extraordinary American race, the most worried one of them all said: “A splendid army. Looks fit to fight for its life. We are sure that you will give a good account of yourselves, General, against any force.” “Against any force,” echoed another. The Major-General did not reply. He gazed over the spick and span tents, the spick and span men, the spick and span guns, far and on, and on, over an encampment that stretched out of sight behind distant wooded heights.