Our stay in this bivouac was only thirty-six hours in duration, but another scene witnessed in the afternoon leaves an indelible impression. To escape the arduous service to which we had for some time been subjected, a few, probably eight or ten men, of Jackson's old division had deserted. Of these, three had been caught, one of whom was a member of the Stonewall Brigade, and they were sentenced by court-martial to be shot. As a warning to others, the whole division was mustered out to witness the painfully solemn spectacle. After marching in column through intervening woods, with bands playing the dead march, we entered an extensive field. Here the three men, blindfolded, were directed to kneel in front of their open graves, and a platoon of twelve or fifteen men, half of them with their muskets loaded with ball, and half with blank cartridges (so that no man would feel that he had fired a fatal shot), at the word "Fire!" emptied their guns at close range. Then the whole division marched by within a few steps to view their lifeless bodies. Jackson's object now was to cross the Rappahannock, trying first one ford and then another. We spent most of the following day galloping to and fro, firing and being fired at. At one ford my gun crossed the river, but, as no support followed it, although the rest of our battery and Brockenbrough's Maryland Battery were close by, we soon recrossed. Rain during the afternoon and night made the river past fording, catching Early's brigade, which had crossed further up-stream, on the enemy's side. He was not pressed, however, and by the next afternoon the whole of Jackson's command had crossed the stream by the fords nearer its source, at Hinson's mill. Thence we traveled northwest through Little Washington, the county-seat of Rappahannock. Then to Flint Hill, at the base of the Blue Ridge. Then turned southeast into Fauquier County and through Warrenton, the prettiest town I had seen since leaving the Valley. We had made an extensive detour, and were no longer disturbed by General Pope, who possibly thought Jackson was on his way to Ohio or New York, and a week later no doubt regretted that one of those distant places had not been his destination. Before reaching Thoroughfare Gap we had the pleasure of a visit from Mr. Robert Bolling, or rather found him waiting on the roadside to see his son, of our mess, having driven from his home in the neighborhood. His son had been left behind sick, but his messmates did full justice to the bountiful supply of refreshments brought in the carriage for him. I remember, as we stood regaling ourselves, when some hungry infantryman would fall out of ranks, and ask to purchase a "wee bite," how delicately we would endeavor to "shoo" him off, without appearing to the old gentleman as the natural heirs to what he had brought for his boy. CHAPTER XII