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position seemed one fraught with much danger.
Now and then the sound of distant cannonading told of cavalry contests between opposing armies as both were pressing northward, but we could hear nothing definite about what was actually taking place.
Four days after the raid at
Muddy Branch, or
Seneca, the centre section was summoned from the
Ferry.
We threw up rifle-pits on Benson's Hill (our first experience in this kind of engineering, which paled before our later efforts), and kept everything packed ready to move at a moment's notice.
Some of us packed up superfluous clothing and conveniences, and expressed them home by way of
Adamstown.
Night after night the harnesses were placed on the horses, and at 3 o'clock in the morning we were turned out, sleepy and cross, to hitch them to the pieces in anticipation of an early attack.
At daybreak the harnesses were taken off. One night, about one o'clock, an officer rode into camp with the tidings that Rebel pickets were in possession of our rifle-pits.
‘Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro’ in the darkness, and silent mustering and mutterings of warriors.
‘All communication with Washington is cut off!’
was whispered round.
‘We are to fight desperately if attacked, and fall back on Harper's Ferry.’
A truly agreeable prospect, that historic place being more than thirty miles distant! One section of the Battery was sent out with a reconnoitering party, which returned in a half hour reporting a false alarm.
It arose, as we ascertained in the morning, from three or four cavalrymen who had strayed from a detachment of Hooker's army and lain down by the wall to sleep.
We treated them to a good breakfast, and from them received our first reliable news of the great invasion.
Soon
