Rock from the mine. Stuff with no ore in it, or such low-grade stuff
that it was worthless."

"I see. Well, they didn't dump it in sight. But they couldn't have
dumped it far from here. It wouldn't be sensible to cart worthless rock
away any distance."

They hadn't used the tailings for roads around the mine. The roads were
natural dirt, with good drainage and no sign of rock ballast. Rick tried
to imagine another use, but couldn't, until Scotty spoke.

"Suppose they used up all the rocks throwing them at the Yankee
soldiers?" Scotty asked whimsically.

The question started a train of thought that gave Rick the answer in a
few seconds. "You've hit it. They didn't throw the rocks, but they used
them against the Yankees. I'll bet on it. Come on."

He got out of the car and led the way through the trees to where the
creek flowed on its quiet way. There were low embankments a few yards
back from the water's edge. "There are the rocks."

"Where?" Scotty couldn't see them. "I don't see nary a rock."

"In the embankments, covered with dirt. See? There's a place where the
dirt cover has been washed away by the rain. I've seen defenses like
this before. They used rocks as a base, filled in the cracks with clay,
then put dirt on top and planted grass to hold it. That gave them a
permanent earthwork."

"Why plant grass?" Scotty wanted to know.

"To fool enemy reconnaissance, I guess. I can't think of any other
reason, except to prevent erosion. In those days scouting was done by
cavalry, and from the other side of the river these look like natural
grassy banks."

Inspection of the embankment disclosed that Rick had guessed right.
Scotty inspected the place where the rain had washed the topsoil away,
probably because some careless picnicker had ruined the grass in that
spot. The rocks were clearly of the kind in the mine.

Suddenly Scotty bent lower and began to pry at something. "Rick, there's
something buried here."

Rick hurried to help out, and in a moment they had lifted away enough
rocks to disclose a considerable amount of moldy cloth.

Scotty took a piece and shook it, then chuckled. "The answer is in the
writing on the bag. Wilbur's Premium Portland Cement." He grew serious.
"Only where was it used? I've seen no construction around here."

"Maybe someone brought picnic supplies in the bags and buried them with
the garbage," Rick said.

"I doubt it. You can't get all the cement out of a bag, because the
p