hree and a half years of incessant war,
and who although youths were nevertheless stronger and more resourceful
than most men.

Near them rode the sergeant, happy in his capacity as scout and guide,
and welcoming the responsibility that he knew would be his, as soon as
they reached the mountains, looming so near and white. He felt as if
he were back upon the plains, leading a troop in a great blizzard, and
guarding it with eye and ear and all his five senses against Sioux or
Cheyenne ambush. He was not a mere trainer of a squad of men, he was,
in a real sense, a leader of an army.

Shepard, the spy, also felt a great uplift of the spirits. He was a
man of high ideals, whose real nature the people about him were just
beginning to learn. He did not like his trade of a spy, but being aware
that he was peculiarly fitted for it intense patriotism had caused him to
accept its duties. Now he felt that most of his work in such a capacity
was over. He could freely ride with the other men and fight openly as
they did. But if emergency demanded that he renew his secret service he
would do so instantly and without hesitation.

Colonel Winchester looked back with pride at his column. Like most of
the regiments at that period of the war it was small, three hundred
sinewy well-mounted young men, who had endured every kind of hardship
and who could endure the like again. All of them were wrapped in heavy
overcoats over their uniforms, and they rode the best of horses, animals
that Colonel Winchester had been allowed to choose.

The colonel felt so good that he took out his little silver whistle,
and blew upon it a mellow hunting call. The column broke into a trot
and the snow flew behind the beating hoofs in a long white trail.
Spontaneously the men burst into a cheer, and the cold wind blowing past
them merely whipped their blood into high exaltation.

But as they rode across the valley Dick could not help feeling some
depression over its ruined and desolate appearance, worse now in winter
than in summer. No friendly smoke rose from any chimney, there were no
horses nor cattle in the fields, the rails of the fences had gone long
since to make fires for the soldiers and the roads rutted deep by the
rains had been untouched. Silence and loneliness were supreme everywhere.

He was glad when they left it all behind, and entered the mountains
through a pass fairly broad and sufficient for horsemen. He did not feel
so muc