Ned dozed; when he awakened, stiff and shivering, the moon had set, all was pitchy dark, except that far in the east just a tinge of grayness signaled the approach of dawn.
Somebody near Ned stirred, and struck a match. It was the general, who looked at his watch. The flickering light revealed his anxious face and moustache rimmed with frost. He stood, and bending over another sleeping form he said, low and earnest: “Moylan! Moylan!”
“Yes, sir.” And the adjutant also sat up, to yawn, and spring to his feet.
“It’s time we were forming. Wake the officers,” continued the general. “Is that you, trumpeter?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Ned.
“You may help us. When you come to Colonel Myers, either of you, give him my compliments and tell him to move his command out at once and take position.”
“Yes, sir.”
Many of the officers already were awake, waiting, peering, listening. All around up-towered dim figures, and cautious voices spoke in undertones. Faint jingle sounded, as the horses stirred at movement of their guardians.
Presently into the darkness filed away Colonel Myers’ column, to take position further along on the right.