h surprise could occur here, but they seemed to be lost in the
wilderness. The mountains and forests oppressed him.

"Well, Dick," said Warner, "we're posted strongly. We've rows of
sentinels as thick as hedges, and I've the colonel's permission to go to
sleep. I'll be slumbering in ten minutes, and I'd advise you to do the
same."

He lay on a blanket and soon slept. Pennington followed him to
slumberland, but Dick lingered. He saw lights still flashing on the
mountains, and he heard now and then reports from the rifles of the
skirmishers, who yet sought each other despite the darkness. But he
yielded at last and he, too, slept until the dawn, which should bring
nearly two hundred thousand men face to face in mortal combat.

Dick was awake early. The September morning came, crisp and clear, the
sun showing red gleams over the mountains. He heard already the sound of
distant rifle shots in front, and, through his glasses, he saw far away
faint puffs of smoke. But it was a familiar sound in this mighty war,
and he found himself singularly calm. He never knew how he was going to
feel on the eve of battle. Sometimes the constriction at his heart was
painful, and sometimes its beat was smooth and regular.

All the officers of the Winchester regiment were dismounted owing to the
rough nature of the country in which they were stationed. They held the
most uneven part of the center, where thickets and ravines were many.
Hot food and coffee were served to them, and new warmth and courage
flowed through their bodies.

The distant fire increased, and, standing on a hillock, Dick looked
long through his glasses. A faint haze which had hung in the south was
clearing away. The rays of the sun were intensely bright. The brown
of autumn glowed like gold, and the red splashes here and there burned
scarlet. He saw pink dots appearing on a long line and he knew that the
skirmishers were active and wary.

"There can be no doubt of the advance!" he said to Warner. "A strong
body of our cavalry disclosed their forward movement, and there are
the skirmishers signaling that Bragg is near. Wonderful fellows, those
sharpshooters! They're the eyes of the army. We stand in mass and fight
together, but every one of them individually takes his life in his own
hands. The firing is coming nearer. I think we'll be attacked first."

After a little pause Warner said:

"I'm sorry our line is extended so much. What if they should cut through
and g