“Sorry to dispute the word of so fair a lady,” I replied, meaning to be gallant, “but I was at the last battle.”
She laughed, as if she did not think much of my words. She said no more, but watched the marching Virginians. I thought I saw a little glow as of pride come in her face. They curved around a hill and passed out of sight.
“Good-by!” said Mistress Kate. “That’s all I wanted to see here.”
She went back to the house and we resumed our tedious watch. Whitestone had full warrant for his seeming apathy. After the passage of the Virginians there was naught to stir us in the slightest. Though born and bred a countryman, I have never seen anything more quiet and peaceful than that afternoon, although two large armies lay but a short distance away, resting from one bloody battle and waiting for another.
No one moved at the house. Everybody seemed to be asleep there. Some birds chattered undisturbed in the trees. The air had the crisp touch of early autumn, and faint tokens of changing hues were appearing already in the foliage. I felt a sleepy languor like that which early spring puts into the blood. In order to shake it off I began a thorough search of the country thereabouts. I pushed my way through the bushes, and tramped both to the north and to the south as far as I dared go from my post. Then I visited the guards who adjoined my little detachment on either side. They had to report only the same calm that prevailed at our part of the line. I went back to Sergeant Whitestone.
“Better take it easy,” advised he. “When there’s nothing to do, do it, and then be fresh to do it when there’s something to do.”
I took his advice, which seemed good, and again made myself comfortable on the ground, waiting for the coming of the night. It was still an hour to set of sun when we saw a mounted officer coming from the north where our army lay. We seemed to be his destination, as he rode straight toward us. I recognized Captain Martyn at once. I did not like this man. I had no particular reason for it, though I have found often that the lack of reason for doing a thing is the very strongest reason why we do it. I knew little about Captain Martyn. He had joined the Northern army before I arrived, and they said he had done good service, especially in the way of procuring information about the enemy.
Whitestone and I sat together on the grass. The other men were on guard at various points. Captain Martyn came on at a good pace until he reached us, when he pulled up his horse with a smart jerk.
“Your watch is over,” he said to me without preliminary. “You are to withdraw with your men at once.”
I was taken much aback, as any one else in my place would have been also. I had received instructions to keep faithful guard over that portion of the line for the long period of twenty-four hours—that is, until the next morning.