any an Indian battle foresaw something
vastly greater than anything that had occurred on the plains. "Whipped
into shape!" Why, in the mighty war that was gathering along a front of
two thousand miles no soldier could escape being whipped into shape, or
being whipped out of it.

But the sergeant's own eyes closed after a while, and he, too, slept the
sleep of utter mental and physical exhaustion. The train rumbled on, the
faithful Canby in the first engine aware of his great responsibility and
equal to it. Not a wink of sleep for him that night. The darkness had
lightened somewhat more. The black of the skies had turned to a dusky
blue, and the bolder stars were out. He could always see the shining
rails three or four hundred yards ahead, and he sent his train steadily
forward at full speed, winding among the gorges and rattling over the
trestles. The silent mountains gave back every sound in dying echoes,
but Canby paid no heed to them. His eyes were always on the track ahead,
and he, too, was exultant. He had brought the regiment through, and
while it was on the train his responsibility was not inferior to that of
Colonel Newcomb.

When Dick awoke, bright light was pouring in at the car windows, but the
car was cold and his body was stiff and sore. His military overcoat had
been thrown over him in the night and Warner had been covered in
the same way. They did not know that Sergeant Whitley had done that
thoughtful act.

Dick stretched himself and drew deep breaths. Warm youth soon sent the
blood flowing in a full tide through his veins, and the stiffness
and soreness departed. He saw through the window that they were still
running among the mountains, but they did not seem to be so high here
as they were at the river by which they had fought in the night. He knew
from his geography and his calculation of time that they must be far
into that part of Virginia which is now West Virginia.

There was no rain now, at least where the train was running, but the
sun had risen on a cold world. Far up on the higher peaks he saw a fine
white mist which he believed to be falling snow. Obviously it was winter
here and putting on the big military coat he drew it tightly about him.
Others in the coach were waking up and some of them, grown feverish
with their wounds, were moving restlessly on their seats, where they lay
protected by the blankets of their fellows.

Dick now and then saw a cabin nestling in the lee of a hill, wit