“The army—­that is, the bulk of it—­camped at five.  We—­the cavalry—­went on to see what we could see around Centreville; but the rebels had burned it, so we came back here where we don’t belong—­a thousand useless men armed with a thousand useless weapons.  Because, dear, our lances are foolish things, picturesque but utterly unsuited to warfare in such a country as this.

“You see, I’ve become the sort of an ass who is storing up information and solving vast and intricate problems in order to be kind to my superiors when, struck with panic at their own tardily discovered incapacity, they rush to me in a body to ask me how to do it.

“Rush’s Lancers are encamped near you now; our regiment is not far from them.  If I can run the guard I’ll do it.  I’m longing to see you, dear.

“I’ve written to Celia, as you know, so she won’t be too much astonished if I sneak into the gallery some night.

“I’ve seen a lot of Zouaves, the 5th, 9th, 10th, and other regiments, but not the 3rd.  What a mark they make of themselves in their scarlet and blue.  Hawkins’ regiment, the 9th, is less conspicuous, wearing only the red headgear and facings, but Duryea’s regiment is a sight!  A magnificent one from the spectacular stand-point, but the regiments in blue stand a better chance of being missed by the rebel riflemen.  I certainly wish Colonel Craig’s Zouaves weren’t attired like tropical butterflies.  But for heaven’s sake don’t say this to Celia.

“Well, you see, I betray the cloven hoof of fear, even when I write you.  It’s a good thing that I know I am naturally a coward; because I may learn to be so ashamed of my legs that I’ll never run at all, either way.

“Dear, I’m too honest with you to make promises, and far too intelligent not to know that when people begin shooting at each other somebody is likely to get hit.  It is instinctive in me to avoid mutilation and extemporary death if I can do it.  I realise what it means when the air is full of singing, buzzing noises; when twigs and branches begin to fall and rattle on my cap and saddle; when weeds and dead grass are snipped off short beside me; when every mud puddle is starred and splashed; when whack! smack! whack! on the stones come flights of these things you hear about, and hear, and never see.  And—­it scares me.

“But I’m trying to figure out that, first, I am safer if I do what my superiors tell me to do; second, that it’s a dog’s life anyway; third, that it’s good enough for me, so why run away from it?

“Some day some of these Johnnies will scare me so that I’ll start after them.  There’s no fury like a man thoroughly frightened.

“Nobody has yet been hurt in any of the lancer regiments except one of Rush’s men, who got tangled up in the woods and wounded himself with his own lance.

“Oh, these lances!  And oh, the cavalry!  And, alas! a general who doesn’t know how to use his cavalry.