plied, "and as you can see, we've had
success, but we were interrupted by the guerrilla Slade, whom I met in
Mississippi, and his men. We got off, though, unhurt, and brought our
fish with us."

Colonel Winchester's troop numbered more than a hundred men, and
crossing the river they beat up the country thoroughly, but they saw no
Confederate sign. When he came back Dick told him all the details of the
episode, and Colonel Winchester agreed with him that Harry had sent the
warning.

"You'd better keep it to yourself," he said. "It's too vague and
mysterious to make a peg upon which to hang anything. Since we've
cleared the bush of enemies we'll go eat the fish you and your friends
have caught."

Sergeant Whitley cooked them, and, as Dick and a score of others sat
around the fire and ate fish for supper, they were so exuberant and
chaffed so much that he forgot for the time all about Slade.

CHAPTER VII

SHERIDAN'S ATTACK

More days passed and the army of Sheridan lay waiting at the head of the
valley, apparently without any aim in view. But Dick knew that if Little
Phil delayed it was with good cause. As Colonel Winchester was high in
the general's confidence Dick saw the commander every day. He soon
learned that he was of an intensely energetic and active nature, and that
he must put a powerful rein upon himself to hold back, when he had such a
fine army to lead.

Many of the younger officers expressed impatience and Dick saw by the
newspapers that the North too was chafing at the delay. Newspapers from
the great cities, New York, Philadelphia and Boston, reached their camp
and they always read them eagerly. Criticisms were leveled at Sheridan,
and from the appearance of things they had warrant, but Dick had faith in
their leader. Yet another period of depression had come in the North.
The loss of life in Grant's campaign through the Wilderness had been
tremendous, and now he seemed to be held indefinitely by Lee in the
trenches before Petersburg. The Confederacy, after so many great battles,
and such a prodigious roll of killed and wounded, was still a nut
uncracked, and Sheridan, who was expected to go up the valley and turn
the Southern flank, was resting quietly in his camp.

Such was the face of matters, but Dick knew that, beneath, great plans
were in the making and that the armies would soon stir. The more he saw
of Sheridan the more he was impressed by him. He might prove to be the