While Jackson was thus mystifying the enemy, both Longstreet and Stuart had been hard at work.  The former, after an artillery contest of several hours’ duration, had driven the enemy from his tete-de-pont on the railway, and had burnt the bridge.  The latter, on the morning of the 22nd, had moved northward with the whole of the cavalry, except two regiments, and had ridden round the Federal right.  Crossing the Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and Hart’s Mills, he marched eastward without meeting a single hostile scout, and as evening fell the column of 1500 men and two pieces of artillery clattered into Warrenton.  The troopers dismounted in the streets.  The horses were fed and watered, and while the officers amused themselves by registering their names, embellished with fantastic titles, at the hotel, Stuart’s staff, questioning the throng of women and old men, elicited important information.  None of the enemy’s cavalry had been seen in the vicinity for some days, and Pope’s supply trains were parked at Catlett’s Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railway, ten miles south-east.  After an hour’s rest the force moved on, and passing through Auburn village was caught by the same storm that had cut off Early.  The narrow roads became running streams, and the creeks which crossed the line of march soon rose to the horses’ withers.  But this was the very condition of the elements most favourable for the enterprise.  The enemy’s vedettes and patrols, sheltering from the fury of the storm, were captured, one after another, by the advanced guard, and the two brigades arrived at Catlett’s Station without the Federals receiving the least notice of their approach.

A moment’s halt, a short consultation, a silent movement forward, and the astonished sentinels were overpowered.  Beyond were the encampments and the trains, guarded by 1500 infantry and 500 horsemen.  The night was dark—­the darkest, said Stuart, that he had ever known.  Without a guide concerted action seemed impossible.  The rain still fell in torrents, and the raiders, soaked to the skin, could only grope aimlessly in the gloom.  But just at this moment a negro was captured who recognised Stuart, and who knew where Pope’s baggage and horses were to be found.  He was told to lead the way, and Colonel W. H. F. Lee, a son of the Commander-in-Chief, was ordered to follow with his regiment.  The guide led the column towards the headquarter tents.  “Then there mingled with the noise of the rain upon the canvas and the roar of the wind in the forest the rushing sound of many horsemen, of loud voices, and clashing sabres.”  One of Pope’s staff officers, together with the uniform and horses of the Federal commander, his treasure chest, and his personal effects, fell into the hands of the Confederates, and the greater part of the enemy’s troops, suddenly alarmed in the deep darkness, dispersed into the woods.  Another camp was quickly looted, and the 1st and 5th Virginia Cavalry were sent across