"They not know him," anxiously said the Doctor.
"Of course they know him. He has the best and plainest ear-mark in the world."
"Pretty close shoot that, anyhow."
The result of this conversation was, that in the further movement the Doctor led his horse during the day.
The firing ceased with no damage, save the bruises of the Doctor, and those received by our tonguey little Corporal, who asserted that the windage of a shell knocked him off a fence. As he fell into a stone heap, it is more than probable that he had some good reason for the movement—besides, why cannot Corporals suffer from wounds of that kind, frequently so fashionable among officers of higher grade?
The onward movement was resumed. In the course of half an hour the cannonading again opened,
interspersed with occasional volleys of musketry. The rattling of musketry became incessant. Advancing under cover of rocky bluffs, the shells passed harmlessly over the Brigade. We soon ascertained that the Rebels had made a stand at a point where our advance, from the character of the country, necessarily narrowed into the compass of a strip of meadow-land. Here a brigade of Rebel infantry were drawn up in line of battle. Their batteries posted on a neighboring height, were guided by signals, the country not admitting of extended observation. The contest was brief. The gleam of the bayonets as they fell for the charge, broke the Rebel line, and they retired in considerable confusion to the wood in their rear. Our batteries soon shelled them from those quarters, and the advance continued—the skirmishers of both sides keeping up a rattling fire. Some Rebel earthworks were passed, and late in the afternoon the track of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad was crossed. The Rebels, before leaving, had done their utmost to complete the destruction of that much abused road. At intervals of every one hundred yards, piles of ties surmounted by rails were upon fire. These were thrown down by our men. About half a mile beyond the road, in a finely sodded valley, the troops were halted for the night, pickets posted, and the men prepared their meals closely in the rear of their stacks. The night was a pleasant one. An open air encampment upon such a night is one of the finest phases of a soldier's life. Meals over, the events of the day were discussed, or such matters as proved of interest to the different groups.
One group we must not pass unnoticed. The majority lounged lazily upon the grass, some squatted upon their knapsacks, while a large stone was given
by common consent to a tall, fine-looking Lieutenant, the principal officer present.
"Corporal," said he, addressing the little Irish Corporal, "do you know how near we are to Martinsburg?"