shadows thickened.

II

THE DAY'S MARCH

In the gray dawn tents were struck, and five days' rations were issued with
the marching orders. As Dan packed his knapsack with trembling hands, he
saw men stalking back and forth like gigantic shadows, and heard the hoarse
shouting of the company officers through the thick fog which had rolled
down from the mountains. There was a persistent buzz in the air, as if a
great swarm of bees had settled over the misty valley. Each man was asking
unanswerable questions of his neighbour.

At a little distance Big Abel, with several of the company "darkies" was
struggling energetically over the property of the mess, storing the cooking
utensils into a stout camp chest, which the strength of several men would
lift, when filled, into the wagon. Bland, who had just tossed his overcoat
across to them, turned abruptly upon Dan, and demanded warmly "what had
become of his case of razors?"

"Where are we going?" was Dan's response, as he knelt down to roll up his
oilcloth and blanket. "By Jove, it looks as if we'd gobble up Patterson for
breakfast!"

"I say, where's my case of razors?" inquired Bland, with irritation. "They
were lying here a moment ago, and now they're gone. Dandy, have you got my
razors?"

"Look here, Beau, what are you going to leave behind?" asked Kemper over
Bland's shoulder.

"Leave behind? Why, dull care," rejoined Dan gayly. "By the way, Pinetop,
why don't you save your appetite for Patterson's dainties?"

Pinetop, who was leisurely eating his breakfast of "hardtack" and bacon,
took a long draught from his tin cup, and replied, as he wiped his mouth on
his shirt sleeve, that he "reckoned thar wouldn't be any trouble about
finding room for them, too." The general gayety was reflected in his face;
he laughed as he bit deeply into his half-cooked bacon.

Dan stood up and nervously strapped on his knapsack; then he swung his
canteen over his shoulder and carefully tightened his belt. His face was
flushed, and when he spoke his voice quivered with emotion. It seemed to
him that the delay of every instant was a reckless waste of time, and he
trembled at the thought that the enemy might be preparing to fall upon them
unawares; that while the camp was swarming like an ant's nest, Patterson
and his men might be making good use of the fleeting moments.

"Why the devil don't we move? We ought to move," he said angrily, as he
glanced round the crowded field wher