But they lifted him up finally and carried him away to a house in the little neighboring village of Port Republic, Sherburne and the other captains, hot from battle, riding with uncovered heads. He was put upon a bed there, and Harry, a staff officer, was selected to ride to Jackson with the news. He would gladly have evaded the errand, but it was obvious that he was the right messenger.
He rode slowly and found Jackson coming up with the main force, Dr. McGuire, his physician, and Colonel Crutchfield, his chief of artillery, riding on either side of him. The general gave one glance at Harry's drooping figure.
“Well,” he said, “have we not won the victory? From a hilltop our glasses showed the enemy in flight.”
“Yes, general,” said Harry, taking off his hat, “we defeated the enemy, but General Ashby is dead.”
Jackson and his staff were silent for a moment, and Harry saw the general shrink as if he had received a heavy blow.
“Ashby killed! Impossible!” he exclaimed.
“It's true, sir. I helped to carry his body to a house in Port Republic, where it is now lying.”
“Lead us to that house, Mr. Kenton,” said Jackson.
Harry rode forward in silence, and the others followed in the same silence. At the house, after they had looked upon the body, Jackson asked to be left alone awhile with all that was left of Turner Ashby. The others withdrew and Harry always believed that Jackson prayed within that room for the soul of his departed comrade.
When he came forth his face had resumed its sternness, but was without other expression, as usual.