“You'd better believe there was excitement then,” said the narrator, a clerk in one of the stores. “Everybody ran forward to pick up the general. He had been thrown so hard that he was stunned and had big bruises. That horse did him more damage than all the armies of the North have done. I can tell you there was alarm for a while among the Johnnies, but they say he was all over it before he left.”
They wandered back toward their own command and the obliging guide pointed out to them a house which the Confederate generals had made their headquarters. They saw Colonel Winchester entering it, and thanking the clerk, followed him.
Union officers were already in the house looking with curiosity at the chairs and tables that Jackson and Lee and Longstreet had occupied. Dick caught sight of a small package lying on one of the tables, but another man picked it up first. As he did so he looked at Dick and said in triumph:
“Three good cigars that the rebels have left behind. Have one, Mason?”
“Thanks, but I don't smoke.”
“All right, I'll find someone else who does.”
He pulled off a piece of paper wrapped around them, threw it on the floor and put the cigars in his pocket. Dick was about to turn away when he happened to glance at the wrapping lying on the floor.
His eyes were caught by the words written in large letters:
HEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY OF NORTH—
Something seemed to shoot through his brain. It was like a flash of warning or command and he obeyed at once. He picked up the paper and smoothed it out in his hand. The full line read like the headline in a newspaper: