Chilling winds from the mountains swept over them.

He had preserved through thick and thin, through battle and through march that big cavalry cloak, and now he buttoned it tightly around him.
He saw down the road puffs of smoke and heard the lashing fire of rifles, but it did not make his pulses beat any faster now.

He had grown so used to it that it seemed to be his normal life.

A bullet fired from a rifle of longer range than the others plumped into the mud at the feet of his horse, but he paid no attention to it.
He joined Sherburne, who was using his glasses, watching through the heavy, thick air the Northern advance.

The brilliant young cavalryman, while as bold and enduring as ever, had changed greatly in the last two or three weeks.