no gleam of recollection in the eyes that surveyed me—and why should there be? I had been an uninteresting lad of fifteen when we last met. This knowledge gave me courage to meet that searching glance, and to lift my hand in the salute due to an officer of rank.
"Ah!" said Harwood in deep voice, "a soldier from the valley?"
"Yes, sir," respectfully, "the Sixty-fifth Virginia."
"Oh, yes; there was a company of mountainmen from Covington way in that command. Daniels your captain?"
"Yes, sir."
"Deserter?"
"No, sir; on thirty days' furlough."
"Oh, indeed! so 'old Jack' thinks he has plenty of time, and can let part of his army go home, does he? Well, that's his business, of course. How does it happen you wear artillery uniform?"
Expecting the question I answered unhesitatingly.
"They'd lost so many gunners, some of us were detailed to help. Recruits are coming in now."
"What was your battery?"
"Staunton Horse Artillery, sir."
"Stationed?"
"At Front Royal—that was our winter camp."
