At Stanardsville he heard from a breathless crowd about the small hotel news from over the mountains. Banks was at last in motion--was marching, nineteen thousand strong, up the Valley--had seized New Market, and, most astounding and terrific of all to the village boys, had captured a whole company of Ashby's! "General Jackson?" General Jackson had burned the railway station at Mt. Jackson and fallen back--was believed to be somewhere about Harrisonburg. "Any other news?" "Yes, sir! Fremont's pressing south from Moorefield, Milroy east from Monterey! General Edward Johnson's had to fall back from the Alleghenies!--he's just west of Staunton. He hasn't got but a brigade and a half." "Anything more?" "Stage's just brought the Richmond papers. All about Albert Sydney Johnston's death at Shiloh. He led the charge and a minie ball struck him, and he said 'Lay me down. Fight on.'" "Fort Pulaski's taken! The darned gunboats battered down the wall. All of the garrison that ain't dead are prisoners." "News from New Orleans ain't hilarious. Damned mortar boats bombard and bombard!--four ships, they say, against Fort Saint Philip, more against Fort Jackson. Air full of shells. Farragut may try to run forts and batteries, Chalmette and all--" "What else?" "Looks downright bad down t' Richmond. McClellan's landed seventy-five thousand men. Magruder lost a skirmish at Yorktown. All the Richmond women are making sandbags for the fortifications. Papers talk awful calm and large, but if Magruder gives way and Johnston can't keep McClellan back, I reckon there'll be hell to pay! I reckon Richmond'll fall." "Anything more?" "That's all to-day." The village wag stepped forth, half innocent and half knave. "Saay, colonel! The prospects of this here Confederacy look rather _blue_." "It is wonderful," said Cleave, "how quickly blue can turn to grey." A portion of that night he spent at a farmhouse at the western mouth of Swift Run Gap. Between two and three he and Harris and Dundee and the grey were again upon the road. It wound through forests and by great mountains, all wreathed in a ghostly mist. The moon shone bright, but the cold was clinging. It had rained and on the soft wood road the horses feet fell noiselessly. The two men rode in silence, cloaks drawn close, hats over their eyes.