Stuart wheeled and beckoned to Gordon, the brave North Carolinian, who had made the stubborn charge at Barbee’s, in 1862, when Pelham was attacked, front and rear, by the Federal cavalry.
“We have flushed a regiment of infantry, Gordon. Can you break them?”
“I think I can, general.”
The handsome face of the soldier glowed—his bright eyes flashed.
“All right. Get ready, then, to attack in front. I will take Young, and strike them at the same moment on the right flank!”
With which words Stuart went at a gallop and joined Young.
That gay and gallant Georgian was at the head of his column; in his sparkling eyes, and the smile which showed the white teeth under the black mustache, I saw the same expression of reckless courage which I had noticed on the day of Fleetwood, when the young Georgian broke the column on the hill.
Stuart explained his design in three words:—
“Are you ready?”
“All ready, general!”