berland. At that very moment the troops under Floyd, just
arrived, were crossing the river to join the garrison in the fortress.

Dick looked upon extensive fortifications, a large fort, a redoubt upon
slightly higher ground, other batteries at the water's edge, powerful
batteries upon a semi-circular hill which could command the river for a
long distance, and around all of these extensive works, several miles
in length, including a deep creek on the north. Inside the works was the
little town of Dover, and they were defended by fifteen thousand men, as
many as Grant had without.

When Dick beheld this formidable position bristling with cannon, rifles
and bayonets, his heart sank within him. How could one army defeat
another, as numerous as itself, inside powerful intrenchments, and in
its own country? Nor could they prevent Southern reinforcements from
reaching the other side of the river and crossing to the fort under the
shelter of its numerous great guns. He was yet to learn the truth, or
at least the partial truth, of Napoleon's famous saying, that in war an
army is nothing, a man is everything. The army to which he belonged
was led by a man of clear vision and undaunted resolution. The chief
commander inside the fort had neither, and his men were shaken already
by the news of Fort Henry, exaggerated in the telling.

But after the first sinking of the heart Dick felt an extraordinary
thrill. Sensitive and imaginative, he was conscious even at the moment
that he looked in the face of mighty events. The things of the minute
did not always appeal to him with the greatest force. He had, instead,
the foreseeing mind, and the meaning of that vast panorama of fortress,
hills, river and forest did not escape him.

"Well, Dick, what do you think of it?" asked Pennington.

"We've got our work cut out for us, and if I didn't know General Grant
I'd say that we're engaged in a mighty rash undertaking."

"Just what I'd say, also. And we need that fleet bad, too, Dick. I'd
like to see the smoke of its funnels as the boats come steaming up the
Cumberland."

Dick knew that the fleet was needed, not alone for encouragement and
fighting help, but to supply an even greater want. Grant's army was
short of both food and ammunition. The afternoon had turned warm, and
many of the northwestern lads, still clinging to their illusions about
the climate of the lower Mississippi Valley, had dropped their blankets.
Now, with the setting