We of the Ninth were at the edge of an opening in the woods, with low hills on either hand, our pickets within easy musket-shot of the gray-clad videttes beyond the fringe of trees. Knowing our own success we could not comprehend this inaction, or the desperate fighting which held back the troops to the east, and we were impatient to go in. I was lying on my back in the shelter of a slight hollow, wondering at the surrounding stillness, wishing for anything to occur which would give action, when the major rode up, accompanied by another officer in an artillery uniform. I was on my feet in an instant saluting.
"Lieutenant Galesworth, this is Captain Kent, an aide on General Sheridan's staff. He desires you to accompany him to headquarters."
My heart bounding with anticipation, within five minutes I was riding beside him, back to the river road, and along the rear of our extended line. He was a pleasant, genial fellow, but knew nothing of why I had been summoned, his orders being simply to bring me at once. Two hours of hard riding, and we came to a double log cabin, with a squad of horsemen in front, and a considerable infantry guard near by. A sentry paced back and forth in front of the steps, and several officers were sitting on the porch. Dismounting, my companion handed the reins of both horses to a trooper, and led the way in. A word to the sentinel, and we faced the group above. One, a sharp-featured man, with very dark complexion, rose to his feet.
"What is it, Kent?"
"This is Lieutenant Galesworth, of the Ninth Illinois Cavalry. The general will wish to see him at once."
The dark-featured man glanced at me, and turned back into the house, and Kent introduced me to the others, none of whom I recognized. This was not Sheridan's staff, but before I could question any of them, the messenger returned, and motioned for me to follow. It was a large room, low-ceilinged, with three windows, the walls of bare logs whitewashed, the floor freshly swept, the only furniture a table and a few chairs. But two men were present, although a sentinel stood motionless at the door,--a broad-shouldered colonel of engineers, with gray moustache and wearing glasses, sitting at a table littered with papers, and a short stocky man, attired in a simple blue blouse, with no insignia of rank visible, his back toward me, gazing out of a window. I took a single step within, and halted. The short man wheeled about at the slight sound, his eyes on my face; I recognized instantly the closely trimmed beard, the inevitable cigar between the lips, and, with a leap of the heart, my hand rose to the salute.
"Lieutenant Galesworth?"
"Yes, General."
"Very well; you may retire, Colonel Trout, and, sentry, close the door."
His keen gray eyes scrutinized my face, betraying no emotion, but he advanced closer, one hand upon the table.