The troops were too thoroughly exhausted by the forced march to be hurled immediately into battle--they must be fed and rested first.

Convinced as to this I remained quiet, glancing idly about the room, until sounds outside attracted attention.
A company--or possibly two--of cavalry was drawn up on the road directly fronting the house, their centre opposite the open gate, but I was compelled to lean out in order to discover just what was occurring on the driveway.

A squad of a dozen horsemen, powdered with dust, yet excellently mounted, were riding slowly toward the veranda.

The man slightly in advance was slender, with dark moustache and goatee, sitting straight in his saddle, and on the collar of his gray coat were the stars of a general officer.

Even the hasty glance gained told me his identity--Beauregard.