Cleave's hundred men, having the town at large for their friend, stoodin no lack of quarters. Some had volunteered from this place or itsneighbourhood, others had kinsmen and associates, not one was so forlornas to be without a host. The village was in a high fever of hospitality;had the companies marching from Botetourt been so many brigades, itwould still have done its[Pg 55] utmost. From the Potomac to the Dan, from theEastern Shore to the Alleghenies the flame of patriotism burned high andclear. There were skulkers, there were braggarts, there were knaves andfools in Virginia as elsewhere, but by comparison they were not many,and theirs was not the voice that was heard to-day. The mass of thepeople were very honest, stubbornly convinced, showing to the end a mostheroic and devoted ardour. This village was not behindhand. All heryoung men were going; she had her company, too. She welcomed Cleave'smen, gathered for the momentarily expected order to the front, andlavished upon them, as on two other companies within her bounds, everyhospitable care.
The blue captain's sword lay with other paraphernalia on the grassbeneath the trees, but he signified assent to the inevitable. Thereserve, hurrying down from the wood, took the captured in charge. Theattack swept on, tearing across the meadow to the Front Royal road,where the second company had made a moment's stand, as brave as futile.It fired two rounds, then broke and tore down the dusty road or throughthe bordering fields toward Front Royal. Cleave and his skirmishersgained. They were mountain men, long of limb; they went like Greekrunners, and they tossed before them round messengers of death. Thegreater number of blue soldiers, exhausted, slackened in their pace,halted, threw down their arms. Presently, trailing their feet, theyreturned to the streamlet and their companions in misfortune.
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