om war a genuine luxury.

He waved his hand once more, and they waved back as before. Then the
course of the two little troops took them away from each other, and the
Southerners were hid from his view by a belt of forest. But he was very
glad that he had seen them. It had been almost as if there were no war.

Dick rode back to the camp, gave his horse to an orderly, and, walking
toward his tent, was met by Warner and Pennington, carrying long slender
rods on their shoulders--Warner in fact carrying two.

"What's this?" he exclaimed.

"We're going fishing," replied Warner. "We've permission for you also.
There's a fine stream about a half mile west of us, running through the
woods, and it's been fished in but little since the war started. Here,
take your rod! You don't expect me to carry it for you any longer do
you? It has a good hook and line and it's easy for us to find bait under
a big stone on soft soil."

"Thank you, George," said Dick happily. "You couldn't keep me from going
with you two. Do you know, I haven't been fishing in more than three
years, and me not yet of age?"

"Well, now's your chance, and you may not have another until after the
war is over. They say it's a fine stream, though, of course, it's not
like the beautiful little rivers of Vermont, that come dashing down from
the mountains all molten silver, where they're not white foam. Splendid
fish! Splendid rivers! Splendid sport! Dick, do you think I'm facing
now in the exact direction of Vermont?"

He had turned about and was gazing with a rapt look into the northeast.

"I should say," said Dick, "that if your gaze went far enough it would
strike squarely upon the Green Mountains of Vermont."

Warner's hand rose in a slow and majestic salute.

"Great little state, mother of men, I salute thee!" he said. "Thou art
stern and yet beautiful to the eye and thy sons love thee! I, who am
but one among them, love all thy rocks, and clear streams, and noble
mountains and green foliage! Here, from the battle fields and across the
distance I salute thee, O great little state! O mother of men!"

"Quite dithyrambic," said Dick, "and now that your burst of rhetoric is
over let's go on and catch our fish. Will you also use your romantic
science of mathematics in fishing? By the way, what has become of that
little algebra book of yours?"

"It's here," said Warner, taking it from the breast pocket of his tunic.
"I never part with it