"Well,
my laughter won't hurt you, Davenant. I never joke with people I don't
like. But to business. The enemy are going to attack me, Surry. Get
ready, I am going to move."
"Ready, general."
"All right!--Hagan!"
"General!"
The voice came like an echo. Then at the door appeared the gigantic,
black-bearded Lieutenant Hagan, chief of the general's escort. Have you
forgotten him, my dear reader?--his huge figure, his mighty beard, the
deep thunder of his tones? I showed you the brave soldier in 1861 and
'62. In 1863 his beard was heavier, his voice more like thunder--when
the giant walked along he seemed to shake the ground.
"I am going to move in half an hour, Hagan," said Stuart, still writing
busily. "Head-quarters will be established on Fleetwood Hill, beyond
Brandy; my horse!"
Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes the
camp was buzzing, and "Lady Margaret" was led up.
"Come on, Surry! Come on, Davenant! I will beat you to the
Court-House!"
And Stuart buckled on his sword, drew on his gauntlets, and mounted his
horse. I was beside him. Not to be ready when Stuart was--was to be
left behind. He waited for nobody. His staff soon learned that.
As Davenant's horse was awaiting him, he was as prompt as Stuart
desired.
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