The road spun behind them and the forest swept by.

They were nearly all open-air Virginians, long of limb, deep of chest and great of muscle.

There was no time for whispering among them, and the exchange of guesses about their destination.

They needed every particle of air in their lungs for the terrible man who made them march as men had seldom marched before.
Jackson cast a grim eye on the long files that sank away in the darkness behind him.
"They march very well," he said, "but they will do better with more practice.

Ride to the rear, Lieutenant Kenton, and see if there are any stragglers.