It was nearly two weeks after Port Republic before the troops had any idea where they were going. They came to a little place called Hanover Junction and they thought they were going to turn there and meet McDowell, but they passed on, and one evening they encamped in a wood. As they were eating supper they heard the muttering thunder of guns toward the south, and throughout the brigades the conviction spread that they were on the way to Richmond. The next night, Harry, who was asleep, was touched by a light hand. He awoke instantly, and when he saw General Jackson standing over him, he sprang up. “I am going on a long ride,” said the general briefly, “and I want only one man to go with me. I've chosen you. Get your horse. We start in five minutes.” Harry, a little dazed yet from sleep and the great honor that had been thrust upon him, ran, nevertheless, for his horse, and was ready with a minute to spare. “Keep by my side,” said Jackson curtly, and the two rode in silence from the camp, watched in wonder by the sentinels, who saw their general and his lone attendant disappear in the forest to the south. It was then one o'clock in the morning of a moonlight night, and the errand of Jackson was an absolute secret. Three or four miles from the camp a sentinel slipped from the woods and stopped them. He was one of their own pickets, on a far out-lying post, but to the amazement of Harry, Jackson did not tell who he was. “I'm an officer on Stonewall Jackson's staff, carrying dispatches,” he said. “You must let me pass.” “It's not enough. Show me an order from him.” “I have no order,” replied the equable voice, “but my dispatches are of the greatest importance. Kindly let me pass immediately.” The sentinel shook his head. “Draw back your horses,” he said. “Without an order from the general you don't go a step further.” Harry had not spoken a word. He had ceased to wonder why Jackson refused to reveal his identity. If he did not do so it must be for some excellent reason, and, meanwhile, the boy waited placidly. “So you won't let us pass,” said Jackson. “Is the commander of the picket near by?” “I can whistle so he'll hear me.” “Then will you kindly whistle?” The sentinel looked again at the quiet man on the horse, put his fingers to his lips and blew loudly. An officer emerged from the woods and said: “What is it, Felton?” Then he glanced at the man on the horse and started violently. “General Jackson!” he exclaimed. The sentinel turned pale, but said nothing. “Yes, I'm General Jackson,” said the general, “and I ride with this lieutenant of my staff on an errand. But both of you must swear to me that you have not seen me.” Then he turned to the sentinel. “You did right to stop us,” he said. “I wish that all our sentinels were as faithful as you.”