division left on the north side of the Pamunkey River to cover the crossing of the trains.  These troopers were rather particular about straggling negroes, and Josiah sharply questioned told the simple truth as he moved toward the bridge, answering the questions of a young officer.  A horse tied to a sapling at the roadside for reasons unknown kicked the passing cavalry man’s horse.  The officer moved on swearing a very original mixture of the over-ripe English of armies.  Swearing was a highly cultivated accomplishment in the cavalry; no infantry profanity approached it in originality.  The officer occupied with his uneasy horse dropped Josiah as he rode on.  A small, dark-skinned negro, rather neatly dressed, spoke to Josiah in the dialect of the Southern slave, which I shall not try to put on paper.  He spoke reflectively and as if from long consideration of the subject, entering at once into the intimacies of a relation with the man of his own colour.

“That horse is the meanest I ever saw—­I know him.”

“He’s near thoroughbred,” said Josiah, “and been badly handled, I reckon.  It’s no good cussin’ horses or mules—­a good horseman don’t ever do it—­horses know.”

“Well, the officer that rides that horse now is about the only man can ride him.  That horse pretty nearly killed one of my general’s staff.  He sold him mighty sudden.”

“Who’s your General?” queries Josiah.

“Why, General Grant—­I’m his headquarter man—­they call me Bill—­everybody knows me.”

He rose at once in Josiah’s estimation.  “Who owns that horse?” asked Josiah.  “I’d like well to handle his beast.”

“He’s an engineer-officer, name of Penhallow.  He’s down yonder somewhere about that pontoon bridge.  I’m left here to hunt up a headquarter wagon.”

“Penhallow!” exclaimed Josiah, delighted.  “Why, I’m down here to be his servant.”

“Well, let’s go to the bridge.  You’ll get a chance to cross after the wagons get over.  I’ve just found mine.”  They moved to one side and sat down.  “That’s Wilson’s cavalry on guard.  Worst dust I ever saw.  Infantry dust’s bad, but cavalry dust don’t ever settle.  The Ninth Corps’s gone over.  There come the wagons.”  With cracking of whip and imprecations the wagons went over the swaying pontoons.  Bill left him, and Josiah waited to cross behind the wagons.

On the bridge midway, a young officer in the dark dress and black-striped pantaloons of the engineers moved beside the teams anxiously observing some loosened flooring.  A wagon wheel gave way, and the wagon lurching over struck the officer, who fell into the muddy water of the Pamunkey.  Always amused at an officer’s mishap, cavalry men and drivers laughed.  The young man struck out for the farther shore, and came on to a shelving slope of slimy mud, and was vainly struggling to get a footing when an officer ran down the bank and gave him a needed hand.  Thus aided, Penhallow gained firm ground.  With a look of disgust at his condition, as he faced the laughing troopers he said, with his somewhat formal way, “To whom am I indebted?”