Harry mechanically put his hand in his pocket, why he did not know, but he felt a piece of bread and meat that he had put there in the morning. He fingered the foreign substance a moment, and it occurred to him that it was good to eat. It occurred to him next that he had not eaten anything since morning, and this body of his, which for the time being seemed to be dissevered from mind, might be hungry.
He took out the food and looked at it. It was certainly good to the eyes, and the body was not so completely dissevered after all, as it began to signal the mind that it was, in very truth, hungry. He was about to raise the food to his lips and then he remembered.
Spurring forward a little he held out the bread and meat to Jackson.
“It's cold and hard, sir,” he said, “but you'll find it good.”
“It's thoughtful of you,” said Jackson. “I'll take half and see that you eat the rest. Give none of it to this hungry horde around me. They're able to forage for themselves.”
Jackson ate his half and Harry his. That reminded most of the officers that they had food also, and producing it they divided it and fell to with an appetite. As they ate, a shell from one of the retreating Northern batteries burst almost over their heads and fragments of hot metal struck upon the hard road. They ate on complacently. When Jackson had finished his portion he took out one of his mysterious lemons and began to suck the end of it.
Midnight was now far behind and the pursuit never halted. One of the officers remarked jokingly that he had accepted an invitation to take breakfast on the Yankee stores in Winchester the next morning. Jackson made no comment. Harry a few minutes later uttered a little cry.
“What is it?” asked Jackson.
“We're coming upon our old battlefield of Kernstown. I know those hills even in the dark.”
“So we are. You have good eyes, boy. It's been a long march, but here we are almost back in Winchester.”