river up which they were steaming.

They were in the Tennessee, having passed in the night the little town
of Paducah--now an important city--at its mouth. It was not so broad as
the Ohio, but it was broad, nevertheless, and it had the aspect of great
depth. But here, as on the Ohio, they seemed to be steaming through the
wilderness. The banks were densely wooded, and the few houses that may
have been near were hidden by the trees. No human beings appeared upon
the banks.

Dick knew why the men did not come forth to see the ships. The
southwestern part of the state, the old Jackson's Purchase, and the
region immediately adjacent, was almost solidly for the South. They
would not find here that division of sentiment, with the majority
inclined to the North, that prevailed in the higher regions of Kentucky.
The country itself was different. It was low and the waters that came
into the Tennessee flowed more sluggishly.

But Dick was sure that keen eyes were watching the fleet from the
undergrowth, and he had no doubt that every vessel had long since been
counted and that every detail of the fleet had been carried to the
Southern garrisons in the fort.

The cold was as sharp as on the day before, and Dick, like the others,
rejoiced in the hot and abundant breakfast. The boats, an hour or two
later, stopped at a little landing, and many of the lads would gladly
have gone ashore for a few moments, risking possible sharpshooters in
the woods, but not one was allowed to leave the vessels. But Dick's
steamer lay so close to the one carrying the Pennsylvanians that he
could talk across the few intervening feet of water with Warner and
Whitley. He also took the opportunity to introduce his new friend
Pennington, of Nebraska.

"Are you the son of John Pennington, who lived for a little while at
Fort Omaha?" asked the sergeant.

"Right you are," replied the young hunter, "I'm his third son."

"Then you're the third son of a brave man. I was in the regular army and
often we helped the pioneers against the Indians. I remember being
in one fight with him against the Sioux on the Platte, and in another
against the Northern Cheyennes in the Jumping Sand Hills."

"Hurrah!" cried Pennington. "I'm sorry I can't jump over a section of
the Tennessee River and shake hands with you."

"We'll have our chance later," said the sergeant. At that moment the
fleet started again, and the boats swung apart. Through Dick's earnest
solicitatio