Some of them had been at Bull Run, but the sting of that day was going with time.

They were now in powerful force at the head of the great Virginia valleys, and they would sweep down them with such impact that nothing could stand before them.

The trumpet sang its mellow triumphant note again, and from across a far range of hills came its like, a low mellow note, faint, almost an echo, but a certain reply.
It was the answer from another troop of their men who rode on a parallel line several miles away.
The lone lad in the edge of the forest heard the distant note also, but he gave it no heed.

His eyes were always for the troop before him.

He had already learned from Stonewall Jackson that you cannot do two things at once, but the one thing that you do you must do with all your might.
The troop presently left the river and entered the fields from which the crops had been reaped long since.