Within the covert Billy made up the fire again, and General Ewell, beneath the amused eyes of his aides, sliced bacon, broke eggs into the skillet and produced an omelette which was a triumph. He was, in truth, a master cook--and everything was good and savoury--and the trio was very hungry. Ewell had cigars, and smoked them like a Spaniard--generous, too--giving freely to the others. As often as it burned low Billy threw dried sticks upon the fire. The evening was cool, the shadows advancing; the crackling light and warmth grateful enough. The newcomers asked questions. They were eager to know--all the country was keen-set to know--eye-witnesses of events were duly appreciated. The scout had been at McDowell? "Yes, but not in the battle, the Stonewall Brigade not being engaged. 12th Georgia did best--and the 44th Virginia. 12th Georgia held the crest. There was one man, just a boy like Billy there ('I'm eighteen!' from Billy)--couldn't anybody keep him back, behind the rise where our troops were lying down. 'We didn't come all this way to hide from Yankees,' he cried, and he rushed out and down upon them--poor fellow!" "That's the spirit. In the morning you followed on?" "Yes, but Milroy and Schenck did not do badly. That was a good fetch of theirs--firing the forest! Everywhere a great murk with tongues of flame--smoke in nostril and eyes and the wind blowing fast. It looked like the end of the world. Old Jack--beg pardon, sir, General Jackson--General Jackson couldn't but smile, it was such excellent tactics. We drew off at last, near Franklin, and the army went into camp for a bit. Billy and I have been with a squadron of Ashby's." "Keeping Fremont back?" "Yes. General Jackson wanted the passes blocked. We did it pretty thoroughly." "How?" "Burned all the bridges; cut down trees--in one place a mile of them--and made abatis, toppled boulders over the cliffs and choked the roads. If Fremont wants to get through he'll have to go round Robin Hood's Barn to do it! He's out of the counting for awhile, I reckon. At least he won't interfere with our communications. Ashby has three companies toward the mountains, He's picketed the Valley straight across below Woodstock. Banks can't get even a spy through from Strasburg. I've heard an officer say--you know him, Major Stafford--Major Cleave--I've heard him say that General Jackson uses cavalry as Napoleon did and as no one has done since." Ewell lit another cigar. "Well, I'm free to confess that old Jackson isn't as crazy as an idiot called Dick Ewell thought him! As Milton says, 'There's method in his madness'--Shakespeare, was it, Morris? Don't read much out on the plains." The younger aide had been gleeful throughout the recital. "Stonewall's a good name, by George! but, by George! they ought to call him the Artful Dodger--" Maury Stafford burst into laughter. "By Heaven. Morris, you'd better tell him that! Have you ever seen him?"