“They’re not more than five or six hundred over there,” said Warner, “too few to put up a fight against us.  I feel sorry for ’em, and wish they’d go away.”

The Southerners nevertheless were sweeping the narrow bridge with a heavy rifle fire, and Sheridan drew back his men for a few minutes.  Then followed a series of mighty splashes, as two West Virginia regiments sent their horses into the river, swam it, and, as they emerged dripping on the farther shore, charged the little Confederate force in flank, compelling it to retreat so swiftly that it left behind prisoners and its wagons.

It was all over in a few minutes, and the whole army, crossing the river, moved steadily on toward Staunton, where Early had been in camp, and where Sheridan hoped to find him.  The little victory did not bring Dick any joy.  He knew that the Confederacy could now make no stand in the Valley of Virginia, and it was like beating down those who were already beaten.  He sincerely hoped that Early would not await them at Staunton or anywhere else, but would take his futile forces out of the valley and join Lee.

The heavy rains began again.  Winter was breaking up and its transition into spring was accompanied by floods.  The last snow on the mountains melted and rushed down in torrents.  The roads, already ruined by war, became vast ruts of mud, but Sheridan was never daunted by physical obstacles.  The great army of cavalry, scarcely slacking speed, pressed forward continually, and Dick knew that Early did not have the shadow of a chance to withstand such an army.

The next day they entered Staunton, another of the neat little Virginia cities devoted solidly and passionately to the Southern cause.  Here, they were faced again by blind doors and windows, but Early and his force were gone.  Shepard brought news that he had prepared for a stand at Waynesborough, although he had only two thousand men.

“Our general will attack him at once,” said Warner, when he heard of it.  “He sweeps like a hurricane.”

“He is surely the general for us at such a time,” said Pennington, who began to feel himself a military authority.

“It’s humane, at least,” said Dick.  “The quicker it’s over the smaller the toll of ruin and death.”

Nor had they judged Sheridan wrongly.  His men advanced with speed, hunting Early, and they found him fortified with his scanty forces on a ridge near the little town of Waynesborough.  The daring young leader, Custer, and Colonel Winchester, riding forward, found his flank exposed, and it was enough for Sheridan.  He formed his plan with rapidity and executed it with precision.  The Custer and Winchester men were dismounted and assailed the exposed flank at once, while the remainder of the army made a direct and violent charge in front.

It seemed to Dick that Early was swept away in an instant, and the attack was so swift and overwhelming that there was but little loss of life on either side.  Four fifths of the Southern men and their cannon were captured, while Early, several of his generals and a few hundred soldiers escaped to the woods.  His army, however, had ceased to exist, and Sheridan and his muddy victors rode on to the ancient town of Charlottesville, which, having no forces to defend it, the mayor and the leading citizens surrendered.