The general turned his horse toward the banks of the Rapidan, and a resplendent figure came forward to meet him.  It was that incarnation of youth and fantastic knighthood, Jeb Stuart, who had just returned from a ride toward the north.  He wore a new and brilliant uniform and the usual broad yellow sash about his waist.  His tunic was embroidered, too, and his epaulets were heavy with gold.  The thick gold braid about his hat was tied in a gorgeous loop in front.  His hands were encased in long gloves of the finest buckskin, and he tapped the high yellow tops of his riding boots with a little whip.

Harry always felt that Stuart did not really belong to the present.  His place was with the medieval knights who loved gorgeous armor, who fought by day for the love of it and who sat in the evening on the castle steps with fair ladies for the love of it, and who in the dark listened to the troubadours below, also for the love of it.  A great cavalry leader, he shone at his brightest in the chase, and, when there was no fighting to be done, his were the spirits of a boy, and he was as quick for a prank as any lad under his own command.

But Stuart, although he had joked with Jackson, never took any liberties with Lee.  He instantly swept the ground with his plumed hat and said in his most respectful manner: 

“General, will you honor us by dining with us?  We’ve just returned from a long ride northward and we’ve made some captures.”

Lee caught a twinkle in his eye, and he smiled.

“I see no prisoners, General Stuart,” he replied, “and I take it that your captures do not mean human beings.”

“No, sir, there are other things just now more valuable to us than prisoners.  We raided a little Yankee outpost.  Nobody was hurt, but, sir, we’ve captured some provisions, the like of which the Army of Northern Virginia has not tasted in a long time.  Would you mind coming with me and taking a look?  And bring Kenton and Dalton with you, if you don’t mind, sir.”

“This indeed sounds tempting,” said the commander-in-chief of the Army of Northern Virginia.  “I accept your invitation, General Stuart, in behalf of myself and my two young aides.”

He dismounted, giving the reins of Traveller to an orderly, and walked toward Stuart’s tent, which was pitched near the river.  The “captures” were heaped in a grassy place.

“Here, sir,” said General Stuart, “are twenty dozen boxes of the finest French sardines.  I haven’t tasted sardines in a year and I love them.”

“I’ve always liked them,” said General Lee.

“And here, sir, are several cases of Yorkshire ham, brought all the way across the sea—­and for us.  It isn’t as good as our Virginia ham, which is growing scarce, but we’ll like it.  And cove oysters, cases and cases of ’em.  I like ’em almost as well as sardines.”

“Most excellent.”

“And real old New England pies, baked, I suppose, in Washington.  We can warm ’em over.”