Stuart had ridden on ahead of his column, through the immense deserted
camps around Wolf Run Shoals, attended only by two or three staff
officers.
As I now raised my head quickly, I saw him coming back at headlong
speed, directing his horse by means of the halter only, and hotly
pursued by a detachment of Federal cavalry, firing on him as they
pressed, with loud shouts, upon his very heels.
"Halt!" shouted the enemy. And this order was followed by "bang! bang!
bang!"
Stuart did not obey the order.
"Halt! halt!"
And a storm of bullets whistled around our heads. I had drawn my sword,
but before I could go to Stuart's assistance, Tom shot ahead of me.
He came just in time. Two of the enemy had caught up with Stuart, and
were making furious cuts at him. He parried the blow of one of the
Federal cavalry-men--and the other fell from the saddle, throwing up
his hands as he did so. Tom Herbert had placed his pistol on his
breast, and shot him through the heart.
But by this time the rest had reached us. A sabre flashed above Tom's
head; fell, cutting him out of the saddle nearly; and he would have
dropped from it, had I not passed my arm around him.
In another instant, all three would have been killed or captured. But
the firing had given the alarm. A thunder of hoofs was heard: a
squadron of our cavalry dashed over the hill: in three minutes the
enemy were flying, to escape the edge of the sabre.
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