and whip are used without stint, he goes ahead and is leaving the “grey” far in the rear; Captain Mitchell is leaning far over on the withers of the faithful little pony, never sparing the whip for a moment, but all could see that he was running a losing race.  When about the commencement of the last quarter the “grey” leaves the track, and off to the right he plunges through the trees, dashing headlong by the groups of men, till at last the Captain brings him up with one rein broken.  A great crowd surround him, questioning, swearing, and jeering, but the Captain sat as silent, immovable, and inattentive as a statue, pointing to the broken rein.  It had been cut with a knife.  The Captain and his friends claimed that the friends of the Virginian had, unnoticed by him, cut the leather to a bare thread, while the friends of the other party, with equal persistency, charged the Captain with cutting it himself.  That when he saw the race lost, he reached over and cut the rein about six inches from the bit, thus throwing the horse out of the track and saving its credit, if not the money.  No one ever knew how it happened, but that there had been a trick played and foul means employed were evident.  A great many had lost their money, and their curses were loud and deep, while the winners went away as merry as “marriage bells.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER VII

Winter Quarters at Bull Run.

Sometime in October the brigade was withdrawn to the vicinity of Centerville for better facilities in the way of provisions, water, etc., and to be nearer the wooded section of the country.  The water had been scarce at Flint Hill, a long distance from camp, and of inferior quality.  The health of the troops was considerably impaired, a great many having been sent to the hospitals, or to their homes.  The sickness was attributed, in a large measure, to the quality of green corn and fresh meat, salt being an object now with the Confederacy, and was issued in limited quantities.  We fared sumptuously while at our camp near Centerville.  Our wagon train going weekly up towards Warrenton and the mountains, returning laden with flour, meat, and the finest beef we had ever received.  The teamsters acting as hucksters, brought in a lot of delicacies to sell on their own account—­chickens, turkeys, and vegetables, and not unfrequently a keg of “Mountain Dew” would be packed in the wagon with the army supplies, and sold by the wagoners at an enormous profit.  There being no revenue officers or “dispensary constables” in those days, whiskey could be handled with impunity, and not a little found its way into camp.  The citizens, too, had an eye single to their own welfare, and would bring in loads of all kinds of country produce.  Sometimes a wagon would drive into camp loaded with dressed chickens and turkeys to the number of one hundred or more.  A large old-fashioned wagon-sheet would be spread over the