ute
information about the movements of all the Union troops, and Pope's
belief that he ought to retreat from the river on Washington. Doubtless
the Confederate horseman shook his head again and again and laughed
aloud, when he put this book, more precious than jewels, inside his gold
braided tunic, to be taken to Lee and Jackson.

But these things were all hidden from the little group of weary men
who rode into Pope's camp. Colonel Winchester carried the news of the
crossing--Early had made it--to the commander, and the rest sought the
best shelter to be found. Dick was lucky enough to be taken into a tent
that was thoroughly dry, and the sergeant who had followed him managed
to obtain a supply of dry clothing which would be ready for him when he
awoke.

Dick did not revive as usual. He threw all of his clothing aside and
water flew where it fell, put on dry undergarments and crept between
warm blankets. Nevertheless he still felt cold, and he was amazed at his
own lack of interest in everything. He might have perished out there in
the stream, but what did it matter? He would probably be killed in some
battle anyway. Besides, their information about the crossing of the
rebels was of no importance either. The rebels might stay on their side
of the Rappahannock, or they might go back. It was all the same either
way. All things seemed, for the moment, useless to him.

He began to shiver, but after a while he became so hot that he wanted to
throw off all the cover. But he retained enough knowledge and will
not to do so, and he sank soon into a feverish doze from which he was
awakened by the light of a lantern shining in his face.

He saw Colonel Winchester and another man, a stranger, who held a small
leather case in his hand. But Dick was in such a dull and apathetic
state that he had no curiosity about them and he shut his eyes to keep
out the light of the lantern.

"What is it, doctor?" he heard Colonel Winchester asking.

"Chill and a little fever, brought on by exposure and exhaustion. But
he's a hardy youth. Look what a chest and shoulders! With the aid of
these little white pills of mine he'll be all right in the morning.
Colonel, Napoleon said that an army fights on its stomach, which I
suppose is true, but in our heavily watered and but partly settled
country, it must fight sometimes on a stomach charged with quinine."

"I was afraid it might be worse. A dose or two then will bring him
around?"

"Wish I c