although he had always practiced self-control, had
begun to rise, but he checked it, seeing that it would be a mere foolish
display of weakness in the face of the blank wall that confronted him.

"My friend," he said with gravity, "I judge from the extreme ignorance
you display concerning great affairs that you sleep a large part of the
time."

"Mebbe so, an' mebbe not. I most gen'ally sleep when I'm sleepy. I've
heard tell there was a big war goin' on in these parts, but this is my
land, an' I'm goin' to stay on it."

"A good farmer, if not a good patriot. Good day."

"Good day."

They rode on and, in spite of themselves, laughed.

"I'm willing to wager that he knows a lot about Lee and Jackson," said
Warner, "but the days of the rack and the thumbscrew passed long ago,
and there is no way to make him tell."

"No," said Dick, "but we ought to find out for ourselves."

Nevertheless, they discovered nothing. They saw no trace of a Southern
soldier, nor did they hear news of any, and toward nightfall they rode
back toward the army, much disappointed. The sunset was of uncommon
beauty. The hot day was growing cool. Pleasant shadows were creeping
up in the east. In the west a round mountain shouldered its black bulk
against the sky. Dick looked at it vaguely. He had heard it called
Clark's Mountain, and it was about seven miles away from the Union army
which lay behind the Rapidan River.

Dick liked mountains, and the peak looked beautiful against the red and
yellow bars of the western horizon.

"Have you ever been over there?" he said to Pennington and Warner.

"No; but a lot of our scouts have," replied Pennington. "It's just a
mountain and nothing more. Funny how all those peaks and ridges crop
up suddenly around here out of what seems meant to have been a level
country."

"I like it better because it isn't level," said Dick. "I'm afraid George
and I wouldn't care much for your prairie country which just rolls on
forever, almost without trees and clear running streams."

"You would care for it," said Pennington stoutly. "You'd miss at first
the clear rivers and creeks, but then the spell of it would take hold of
you. The air you breathe isn't like the air you breathe anywhere else."

"We've got some air of our own in Vermont that we could brag about, if
we wanted to," said Warner, defiantly.

"It's good, but not as good as ours. And then the vast distances, the
great spaces take hold of you. And there'