He gazed intently at the village, knowing that the pickets would be on watch, and presently he saw men appear at the edge of the hill just in front of the great warehouse.

They were the pickets, beyond a doubt, because the silver starshine glinted along the blades of their bayonets.
The bugler gave one more call.

It was a soft and pleasing sound.

It said very plainly that the one who blew and those with him were friends.
Two men in uniform joined the pickets beside the warehouse, and looked toward the point whence the note of the bugle came.
"Forward!" said Captain Philip Sherburne, himself leading the way, Harry by his side.

The troops, wheeling back into the road and marching by fours in perfect order, rode straight toward the village.
"Who comes ?" was the stern hail.
"A troop of Stonewall Jackson's cavalry to help you," replied Sherburne.
"You are about to be attacked by a Northern division eight hundred strong." "Who says so ?" came the question in a tone tinged with unbelief, and Harry knew that it was the stubborn and dogmatic McGee who spoke.
"Lieutenant Harry Kenton of the Invincibles, one of Stonewall Jackson's best regiments, has seen them.