The words were unclassic, it may be, reader, but they raised a storm.
“I felt like I could die for old Jeb after that,” one of the men said to me.
Stuart disappeared, followed by tumultuous cheers, and his column continued to advance upon Warrenton ahead of the army. He had ridden on for a quarter of an hour, when he turned to me, and said:—
“I am getting uneasy about things at Culpeper. I wish you would ride back to Rosser, who is there with two hundred men, and tell him to call on Young, if he is pushed.” I turned my horse.
“You know where Young is?”
“On the Sperryville road.”
“Exactly—Rosser can count on him. I am going on toward Warrenton.”
And the general and myself parted, riding in opposite directions.
I returned toward Hazel River; passed that stream, and the long rows of army wagons; and as the sun was sinking, drew near Culpeper.
As I pressed on, I heard the long thunder of cannon coming up from the direction of Brandy.