LITMIR.BIZ

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I’ll wager you a hundred to one before we begin that he knows absolutely nothing about the rebel army. In fact, I doubt that he will know of its existence.”

      “I won’t take your bet,” said Dick.

      They called to the man, a typical Virginia farmer in his shirt sleeves, tall and spare, short whiskers growing under his chin. There was not much difference between him and his brother farmer in New England.

      “Good-day,” said Warner.

      “Good-day.”

      “You seem to be working hard.”

      “I’ve need to do it. Farm hands are scarce these days.”

      “Farming is hard work.”

      “Yes; but it’s a lot safer than some other kinds men are doin’ nowadays.”

      “True, no doubt, but have you seen anything of the army?”

      “What army?”

      “The one under Lee and Jackson, the rebel army.”

      “I ain’t heard of no rebel army, mister. I don’t know of any such people as rebels.”

      “You call it the Confederate army. Can you tell us anything about the Confederate army?”

      “What Confederate army, mister? I heard last month when I went in to the court house that there was more than one of them.”

      “I mean the one under Lee and Jackson.”

      “That’s cur’us. A man come ridin’ ‘long here three or four weeks ago. Mebbe he was a lightnin’ rod agent an’ mebbe he had patent medicines to sell, he didn’t say, but he did tell me that General Jackson was in one place an General Lee was in another. Now which army do you mean?”

      “That was nearly a month ago. They are together now.”

      “Then, mister, if you know so much more about it than I do, what are you askin’ me questions for?”

      “But I want to know about Lee and Jackson. Have you seen them?”

      “Lord bless you, mister, them big generals don’t come visitin’ the likes o’ me. You kin see my house over thar among the trees. You kin search it if you want to, but you won’t find nothin’.”

      “I don’t want to search your house. You can’t hide a great army in a house. I want to know if you’ve seen the Southern Army. I want to know if you’ve heard anything about it.”

      “I ain’t seed it. My sight’s none too good, mister. Sometimes the blazin’ sun gits in my eyes and kinder blinds me for a long time. Then, too, I’m bad of hearin’; but I’m a powerful good sleeper. When I sleep I don’t hear nothin’, of course, an’ nothin’ wakes me up. I just sleep on, sometimes dreamin’ beautiful dreams. A million men wouldn’t wake me, an’ mebbe a dozen armies or so have passed in the night while I was sleepin’ so good. I’d tell you anything I know, but them that knows nothin’ has nothin’ to tell.”

      Warner’s temper, although he had always practiced self-control, had begun to rise, but he checked it, seeing that it would be a mere foolish display of weakness in the face of the blank wall that confronted him.

      “My friend,” he said with gravity, “I judge from the extreme ignorance you display concerning great affairs that you sleep a large part of the time.”

      “Mebbe so, an’ mebbe not. I most gen’ally sleep when I’m sleepy. I’ve heard tell there was a big war goin’ on in these parts, but this is my land, an’ I’m goin’ to stay on it.”

      “A good farmer, if not a good patriot. Good day.”

      “Good day.”

      They rode on and, in spite of themselves, laughed.

      “I’m willing to wager that he knows a lot about Lee and Jackson,” said Warner, “but the days of the rack and the thumbscrew passed long ago, and there is no way to make him tell.”

      “No,” said Dick, “but we ought to find out for ourselves.”

      Nevertheless, they discovered nothing. They saw no trace of a Southern soldier, nor did they hear news of any, and toward nightfall they rode back toward the army, much disappointed. The sunset was of uncommon beauty. The hot day was growing cool. Pleasant shadows were creeping up in the east. In the west a round mountain shouldered its black bulk against the sky. Dick looked at it vaguely. He had heard it called Clark’s Mountain, and it was about seven miles away from the Union army which lay behind the Rapidan River.

      Dick liked mountains, and the peak looked beautiful against the red and yellow bars of the western horizon.

      “Have you ever been over there?” he said to Pennington and Warner.

      “No; but a lot of our scouts have,” replied Pennington. “It’s just a mountain and nothing more. Funny how all those peaks and ridges crop up suddenly around here out of what seems meant to have been a level country.”

      “I like it better because it isn’t level,” said Dick. “I’m afraid George and I wouldn’t care much for your prairie country which just rolls on forever, almost without trees and clear running streams.”

      “You would care for it,” said Pennington stoutly. “You’d miss at first the clear rivers and creeks, but then the spell of it would take hold of you. The air you breathe isn’t like the air you breathe anywhere else.”

      “We’ve got some air of our own in Vermont that we could brag about, if we wanted to,” said Warner, defiantly.

      “It’s good, but not as good as ours. And then the vast distances, the great spaces take hold of you. And there’s the sky so high and so clear. When you come away from the great plains you feel cooped up anywhere else.”

      Pennington spoke with enthusiasm, his nostrils dilating and his eyes flashing. Dick was impressed.

      “When the war’s over I’m going out there to see your plains,” he said.

      “Then you’re coming to see me!” exclaimed Pennington, with all the impulsive warmth of youth. “And George here is coming with you. I won’t show you any mountains like the one over there, but boys, west of the Platte River, when I was with my father and some other men I watched for three days a buffalo herd passing. The herd was going north and all the time it stretched so far from east to west that it sank under each horizon. There must have been millions of them. Don’t you think that was something worth seeing?”

      “We’re surely coming,” said Dick, “and you be equally sure to have your buffalo herd ready for us when we come.”

      “It’ll be there.”

      “Meanwhile, here we are at the Rapidan,” said the practical Warner, “and beyond it is our army. Look at that long line of fires, boys. Aren’t they cheering? A fine big army like ours ought to beat off anything. We almost held our own with Jackson himself at Cedar Run, and he had two to one.”

      “We will win! We’re bound to win!” said Dick, with sudden access of hope. “We’ll crush Lee and Jackson, and next summer you and I, George, will be out on the western plains with Frank, watching the buffalo millions go thundering by!”

      They forded the Rapidan and rejoined their regiment with nothing to tell. But it was cheerful about the fires. Optimism reigned once more in the Army of Virginia. McClellan had sent word to Pope that he would have plenty of soldiers to face the attack that now seemed to be threatened by the South. Brigades from the Army of the Potomac would make the Army of Virginia invincible.

      Dick having nothing particular to do, sat late with his comrades before one of the finest of the fires, and he read only cheerful omens in the flames. It was a beautiful night. The moon seemed large and near, and the sky was full of dancing stars. In the clear night Dick saw the black bulk of Clark’s Mountain off there against the horizon, but he could not see what was behind it.

      CHAPTER III. BESIDE THE RIVER

      Dick was

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