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Updated: June 7, 2025
Both believed they would soon be in touch with the enemy. Sergeant Whitley, acting now as a scout, had gone forward through a field and in a few minutes galloped back. "The enemy is not far away," he said. "They're posted along a creek, with high banks and in a wood. They've got a strong artillery too, and I think they about equal us in numbers."
"Now, sergeant, I think we ought to be off at full speed." "Not a minute to waste," said Sergeant Whitley. Their horses had been fed and were rested well. The three bade farewell to the young operator, then to almost all of Hubbard and proceeded in a trot for the pass.
He went out in silence, and gently closed the door behind him. In the hall he met Sergeant Whitley and said: "We needn't look any farther. I know now that the man has gone and we shall not be fired upon again from this house." The sergeant glanced at the rifle Dick carried and made no comment. But when they were riding away, he said: "And so that was it?" "Yes, that was it."
On one of them they saw a man of imposing appearance pass down Pennsylvania Avenue. He would have caught the attention of anybody, owing to his great height and splendid head crowned with snow-white hair. He was old, but he walked as if he were one who had achieved greatly, and was conscious of it. "It's Old Fuss and Feathers his very self," said Whitley. "General Scott.
They rode a long time through a war-torn country, and the days bound the young men together so closely that, at times, it seemed to them they had fought on the same side all through the war. Sergeant Whitley was usually their guide and he was an expert to bargain for food and forage. He exhibited then all the qualities that afterward raised him so high in the commercial world.
Early in the night while it was yet clear Dick often saw the flashes from the firing, but, as the morning hours approached, heavy mists began to rise from that region of damp earth and great waters. He shivered more than once, and on the advice of Sergeant Whitley wrapped his cavalry cloak about him. "Chills and fever," said the sergeant sententiously.
McClellan's too young to handle the great armies that are going into the field. I'm afraid he won't be a match for them old veterans like Johnston and Lee." "Napoleon became famous all over the world when he was only twenty-six," said Warner. "That's so," retorted Whitley, "but I never heard of any other Napoleon. The breed began and quit with him."
No matter what we do we'll never make any friends here in one of the Gulf states, the very core of Southern feeling. Dick, take a squad of men and enter the house. Pennington, you and Warner go with him." Dick sprang down instantly, chose Sergeant Whitley first and with the others entered the great portico.
The horses for the officers were obtained at the suggestion of Sergeant Whitley, and the little column turned southward through the wintry forest. Dick and Warner were riding strong mountain ponies, but at times, and in order to show that they considered themselves no better than the others, they dismounted and walked over the frozen ground.
Whitley's reading in this field had been much wider than mine, and his knowledge of far countries and the men who wrote about them was a revelation to such a dabbler as I had been. It was time for me to efface myself, and I said so a bit unsteadily, perhaps, for the pleasant evening had been as the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land. "No," said Whitley, quite definitely.
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