ligent, respectful to his superior officers, who often knew less
than he did, a veteran from whom woods, hills, and plains hid few
secrets. He thought it a good thing that the sergeant was to be their
guide, because he would lead them into no ambush.

As Dick turned away for departure Ohio said to him:

"We'll meet on the mountain side, and I hope we'll catch our game, but
don't you fellows fire into us in the dark."

Dick promised and his regiment marched away toward the slope. All were
on foot, of course, and they had received strict instructions to make no
noise. They turned northward, left the camp behind them, and were soon
hidden in the dark.

Dick was at the head of the column with Colonel Winchester and the
sergeant. Warner and Pennington were further back. The darkness was
heavy in the shadow of the slope and among the bushes, but, looking
backward, Dick clearly saw the camp of General Thomas with its thousands
of men and dozens of fires. Figures passed and repassed before the
flames, and the fused noises of a great camp came from the valley.

Dick took only a glance or two. His whole attention now was for the
sergeant, who was looking here and there and sniffing the air, like a
great hound seeking the trail. The soldier had melted into the scout,
and Colonel Winchester, knowing him so well, had, in effect, turned the
regiment over to him.

Dick and other young officers were sent back through the column to see
that they marched without noise. It was not difficult to enforce the
orders, as the men were filled with the ardor of the hunt, and would do
everything to insure its success. When Dick came back to the head of the
column he merely heard the tread of feet and the rustling of uniforms
against the bushes behind them.

The sergeant led on with unerring skill and instinct. They were rising
fast on the slope, and the great forest received and hid them as if they
were its wild children returned to their home. The foliage was so dense
that Dick caught only flitting glimpses of the camp below, although many
fires were yet burning there.

The wisdom of putting the regiment into the hands of the sergeant
was now shown. Rising to the trust, he called up all his reserves of
wilderness lore. He listened attentively to the voice of every night
bird, because it might not be real, but instead the imitation call of
man to man. He searched in every opening under the moonlight for traces
of footsteps, which he alone