were riding down the steep clay bank that
led to the new iron bridge across the ford of the Sycamore, and for
half an hour they rode chattering through the wood before they came
into the valley and soon were Climbing the bluff which they had seen
the night before from the Culpepper home. On the brow of the bluff Bob
said, "Hold on--" He turned his horse and looked back. The sun was on
the town, and across on the opposite hill stood the colonel's big
house with its proud pillars. No trees were about it in those days,
and it and the Hendricks house stood out clearly on the horizon. But
on the top of the Culpepper home were two little figures waving
handkerchiefs. The boys waved back, and John thought he could tell
Ellen from her sister, and the night and its joy came back to him, and
he was silent.

They had ridden half an hour without speaking when Bob Hendricks said,
"Awful fine girls--aren't they?"

"That's what I've always told you," returned John.

After another quarter of a mile Bob tried it again. "The colonel's a
funny old rooster--isn't he?"

"Well, I don't know. That day at the battle of Wilson's Creek when he
walked out in front of a thousand soldiers and got a Union flag and
brought it back to the line, he didn't look very funny. But he's windy
all right."

Again, as they crossed a creek and the horses were drinking, Bob said:
"Father thinks General Ward's a crank. He says Ward will keep harping
on about those war bonds, and quarrelling because the soldiers got
their pay in paper money and the bondholders in gold, until people
will think every one in high places is a thief."

"Oh, Ward's all right," answered John. "He's just talking; he likes an
argument, I guess. He's kind of built that way."

It was a poor starved-to-death school that the boys found at Lawrence
in those days; with half a dozen instructors--most of whom were still
in their twenties; with books lent by the instructors, and with
appliances devised by necessity. But John was happy; he was making
money with his horses, doing chores for his board, and carrying papers
night and morning besides. The boy's industry was the marvel of the
town. His limp got him sympathy, and he capitalized the sympathy.
Indeed, he would have capitalized his soul, if it had been necessary.
For his Yankee blood was beginning to come out. Before he had been in
school a year he had swapped, traded, and saved until he had two
teams, and was working them with hired