“Tell it over, George,” he said, “was it Richmond you were speaking of, and did you say that it was taken?”

“Yes, Dick, and it’s the truth.  Of course it doesn’t look like it to you or to me or to Frank, but it’s a fact.  Today or tomorrow we may go there and see it with our own eyes, and then if we don’t believe the sight we can read an account of it in the newspapers.”

It was a process of saturation, but in the next hour or two they believed it and understood it fully.  On the following day they rode into the desolate and partly burned capital, now garrisoned heavily by the North, and looked with curiosity at the little city for which such torrents of blood had been shed.  But as at Winchester and Petersburg, they gazed upon blind doors and windows.  Nor did they expect anything else.  It was only natural, and they refrained carefully from any outward show of exultation.

Richmond was to hold them only a few hours, as Grant and Sheridan continued hot on the trail of Lee.  They knew that he was marching along the Appomattox, intending to concentrate at Amelia Court House, and they were resolved that he should not escape.  Sheridan’s cavalry, with the Winchester regiment in the van, advanced swiftly and began to press hard upon the retreating army.  The firing was almost continuous.  Many prisoners and five guns were taken, but at the crossing of a creek near nightfall the men in gray, still resolute, turned and beat off their assailants for the time.

The pursuit was resumed before the next daylight, and both Grant and Sheridan pressed it with the utmost severity.  In the next few days Dick felt both pity and sympathy for the little army that was defending itself so valiantly against extermination or capture.  It was almost like the chase of a fox now, and the hounds were always growing in number and power.

The Northern cavalry spread out and formed a great net.  The Southern communications were cut off, their scouts were taken, and all the provision trains intended for Lee were captured.  The prisoners reported that the Southern army was starving, and the condition of their own bodies proved the truth of their words.  As Dick looked upon these ragged and famished men his feeling of pity increased, and he sincerely hoped that the hour of Lee’s surrender would be hastened.

During these days and most of the nights too Dick lived in the saddle.  Once more he and his comrades were clothed in the Virginia mud, and all the time the Winchester regiment brought in prisoners or wagons.  They knew now that Lee was seeking to turn toward the South and effect a junction with Johnston in North Carolina, but Dick, his thoughts being his own, did not see how it was possible.  When the Confederacy began to fall it fell fast.  It was only after they passed through Richmond that he saw how frail the structure had become, and how its supporting timbers had been shot away.  It was great cause of wonder to him that Lee should still be able to hold out, and to fight off cavalry raids, as he was doing.