Harry saw other fires spring up in the orchard, and he went over to one of them, where some soldiers were cooking food.
“Give me a piece of meat and bread,” he said to a long Virginian.
“Set, Sonny, an' eat with us!”
“I don't want it for myself.”
“Then who in nation are you beggin' fur?”
“For General Jackson. He's sitting over there.”
“Thunderation! The gen'ral himself! Here, boy!”
Bearing a big piece of meat in one hand and a big piece of bread in the other Harry returned to Jackson, who had not yet tasted food that day. The general ate heartily, but almost unconsciously. He seemed to be in a deep study. Harry surmised that his thoughts were on the morrow. He had learned already that Stonewall Jackson always looked forward.
Harry foraged and obtained more food for himself, and other officers of the staff who were coming up, some bearing slight wounds that they concealed. He also secured the general's cloak, which was strapped to his saddle and insisted upon his putting it on.
The fire was surrounded presently by officers. Major Hawks had laid together and as evenly as possible a number of fence rails upon which Jackson was to sleep, but as yet no one was disposed to slumber. They had finished eating, but they remained in a silent and somber circle about the fire.