n' long ago an' tried
to stop it. I went over in Kentucky more than once an' heard Henry Clay
speak. I don't believe there was ever another such a talker as he was.
He had sense an' knowledge as well as voice. He done his best to smooth
over this quarrel between North and South that others was eggin' on all
the time, but he couldn't, and I reckon when Henry Clay, the greatest
man God ever made, failed, it wasn't worth while for anybody else
to try. Ride on, young fellers, an' get yourselves killed. You ain't
twenty, an' I'm over eighty, but I guess I'll be lookin' at the green
trees when you're under the ground. Ride on in the rain an' the cold,
an' I'll go inside the shop an' warm myself by the forge fire."

The three boys rode on in sober silence. The words of the ancient
philosopher were soaking in with the rain.

"Suppose we don't come back from Stone River," said Pennington.

"We take our chances, of course," said Dick.

"And suppose what he said about the South should prove true," said
Warner, thoughtfully. "One part of it, at least, is bound to come true.
That phrase of his sticks in my mind: 'Mebbe the South can be whipped,
but she can't be moved.' The Southern states, as he says, will be here
just the same after the war is over, no matter who wins."

But such thoughts as these could not endure long in minds so young. They
passed through the village and soon were in the forests of red cedar.
The rain ceased, but in its place came a thick and heavy fog. The mud
grew deeper than ever. Progress became very slow. It was difficult
in the great foggy veil for the regiments to keep in touch with one
another, and occasional shots in front warned them that the enemy was
active and watchful. The division barely crept along.

Dick and his comrades were mounted again, and they kept close to Colonel
Winchester, who, however, had few orders to send. The command of the
corps rested with General McCook, and it behooved him as any private
could see, to exercise the utmost caution. They were strangers in the
land and the Confederates were not.

Dick had thought that morning that they would get into touch with heavy
forces of the enemy before night, but the fog and the mud rendered their
advance so slow that at sunset they went into camp in a vast forest of
red cedar, still a good distance from Stone River. The fog had lifted
somewhat, but the night was heavy, damp and dark. There was an abundance
of fallen wood, and the ve