st herself,
and Dick smiled at the recollection of the strong and honest black face
that had bent over him so often. He prayed without words that these
ruthless guerrillas, no matter what flag they bore, should never come to
Pendleton.

"I don't think our column on its present march need fear anything from
Slade and his band," said Colonel Winchester. "Such as he can operate
only from ambush, and so far as Virginia is concerned, in the mountains.
Shepard says we'll be out of the pass in another hour, and by that time
it will be day. I'll be glad, too, as the cold rain and the darkness and
the long ride are beginning to affect the men."

The column resumed its march, Dick rode by the side of Colonel
Winchester. Time, propinquity, genuine esteem, and a fourth influence
which Dick did not as yet suspect, were fast knitting these two, despite
the difference in age, into a friendship which nothing could break.
The meeting with Slade was forgotten quickly, by all except those
concerned, and by most of those too, so vast was the war and so little
space did it afford for the memory of brief events. Yet it lingered a
while with Dick. Twice now he had met Slade and he felt that he would
meet him yet again at points far apart.

Dawn came slow and gray in a cloudy sky, but the sun soon broke through.
The heat returned and the earth began to dry. The three colonels felt
it necessary to give their men rest and food, and let them dry their
uniforms, which had become wet in many cases, despite their overcoats and
heavy cloaks.

They were now in a deep cove of the great Valley of Virginia, with the
steep mountains just behind them, and far beyond the dim blue outline of
other mountains enclosing it on the west. As the fires blazed up and
the men made coffee and cooked their breakfasts, Dick's heart leaped.
This was the great valley once more, where so much history had been made.
Lee and Grant were deadlocked in the trenches before Petersburg, but here
in the valley history would be made again. It was the finest part of
Virginia, the greatest state of the Confederacy, and Dick knew in his
heart that some heavy blows would soon be struck, where fields already
had been won and lost in desperate strife.

But the men were very cheerful. The little band of skirmishers or
sharpshooters under Slade had been brushed aside easily, and now that
they were in the valley they did not foresee any further attempt to stop
their march to