We put spurs to our horses and dashed down the road in that direction.
We reached the edge of the woods and pushed on, jumping our horses over temporary rifle pits and rail barricades which had been occupied by the Confederates, and from which they had been ousted by the fire of our battery. We saw dead rebels in the rifle pits and in the road. We galloped on, and as we were beginning to wonder what had become of our regiment, we came against a column of rebel infantry marching toward the rifle pits we had passed a few minutes before.
“Whew!”
“Where's our cavalry?” I stammered, scarcely knowing what I was doing.
“What cavalry?” asked a rebel sergeant, who was in charge of the advance guard of the column.
“Hampton's?”
“Off to the right.”
“We must get there at once—important dispatches.”
Our advent was so sudden that the meeting was as much of a surprise to the rebels as it was to us, and as it was not uncommon for rebel cavalrymen to don blue jackets when they could get them by stripping prisoners, the Confederates did not seem to grasp the situation till we had turned about and were galloping back over the road toward the Federal lines.
“Halt!”