Dick gazed with all his eyes, and he saw several hundred yards away a thickset man on a sorrel horse.

He was bearded and he stooped a little, seeming to bend an intense gaze upon the Northern lines.
There was no time for anyone to fire, because in a few seconds the smoke came back, a huge, impenetrable curtain, and hid the man and the hillock.

But Dick had not the slightest doubt that it was the great Southern leader, and he was right.

It was Stonewall Jackson on the hillock, rallying his men, and Dick's own cousin, Harry Kenton, rode by his side.
They reloaded, but a staff officer galloped up and delivered a written order to Colonel Winchester.

The whole regiment left the line, another less seasoned taking its place, and they marched off to one flank, where a field of wheat lately cut, and a wood on the extreme end, lay before them.