rching it just here
into the open space that Mr. Shepard's map shows. Tomorrow--or rather
today, for I see the dawn comes--will be a day of great noise and of
much burning of powder. But behind the curtain of smoke we'll make our
movements. Merritt with his cavalry shall go to the right and Averill
will go with him. Crook shall take his two divisions and hold the north
bank of Cedar Creek, and later on Crook shall be the first to strike.
Gentlemen, we've won one victory, and I know that all of you appreciate
the value of a second and a third. The opportunity of the war lies here
before us. We can uncover the entire left flank of the Confederacy here
in Virginia, and who knows what will follow!"

He looked up, his eyes glowing and his confidence was communicated to
them all. They were mostly young men and they responded in kind to his
burning words. Sheridan knew that he could command from them the utmost
fidelity and energy, and he uttered a little exclamation of confidence.

"I shall consider the victory already won," he said.

The generals left for their commands, and Sheridan again thanked Colonel
Winchester, Dick and Shepard.

"I recommend that all three of you take some rest," he said, "you won't
have much to do this morning."

They saluted, mounted and rode back. "You take his advice, Dick, and
roll yourself in your blanket," said Colonel Winchester, when they were
on the way.

"I will, sir," said Dick, "although I know that great history is being
made now."

"I feel that way, too," said the colonel. "Look, the sun is coming up,
and you can see the Confederate outposts."

The thin, clear air of September was brilliant with morning light,
and through glasses the Confederate outposts and works around Fisher's
Hill were quite clear and distinct. Some of the Northern and Southern
sentinels were already exchanging compliments with one another, and they
heard the faint popping of rifles. But Dick well knew from Sheridan's
words that this early firing meant nothing. It would grow much heavier
bye and bye and it would yet be but the cover for something else.

He found Warner and Pennington already sound asleep, and wrapping himself
in his blanket he lay down under a tree and fell asleep to the distant
crackle of rifles and the occasional thud of great guns. He slept on
through the morning while the fire increased, and great volumes of smoke
rolled, as the wind shifted up or down the valley. But it