Moor had been
ridden down, unhorsed, and captured. The artillery-men had
unlimbered the gun, pointed it, and the gunner stood with the
lanyard in his hand, when he was struck by a charging horse; the gun
was fired by the concussion, but at the same moment it was capsized
into the ditch by the impact of the cavalry column. The enemy had no
time to right the gun or carry it off, nor to stop for prisoners.
They forced Moor on another horse, and turned tail as the charging
lines of infantry came up on right and left as well as the column in
the road, for there had not been a moment's pause in the advance. It
had all happened, and the gun with a few dead and wounded of both
sides were in our hands, in less time than it has taken to describe
it. Those who may have a fancy for learning how Munchausen would
tell this story, may find it in the narrative of Major Heros von
Borke of J. E. B. Stuart's staff. [Footnote: Von Borke's account is
so good an example of the way in which romance may be built up out
of a little fact that I give it in full. The burning of the stone
bridge half a mile in rear of the little affair was a peculiarly
brilliant idea; but he has evidently confused our advance with that
on the Urbana road.
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