from the rear. At first the
boys sang a good deal, new songs and old. But the last two stretches,
though we have had continual jokes and laughter, have been a persistent
grind. For the first time we have had climbing, pretty steady from our
start to the height of land, a rise of 502 feet, after which we stumbled
down a very stony track till we reached a better road at Halfway House,
an uninviting structure between two unknown terminals. We had one fine
look-off at the highest point, over a gently descending slope of miles to
a strip of Champlain, and beyond, floating above the haze, the Green
Mountains of Vermont. Now we are resting again, the boys talking,
smoking, studying the map, and singing quietly.

In camp at Ledger Corners.
At the mouth of my kennel.

The day's hike, ten or twelve miles, is finished, a very dreary
performance indeed. The way was very dull; and though the boys were at
first inclined to say they were glad not to be on skirmish duty, we
having worked so hard of late, before the trudge was over we were all
tired of the monotony, and would have been glad of a brush. And we got
just as tired and hungry as if we had had an extra four or five miles of
cross-country work. At last after passing through a district whose only
beauties were its few high views and the gorgeous colors of its maples,
and whose general sparseness of people, unattractive fields, and ill-kept
houses (chiefly of plastered logs) became after a while depressing, we
came to almost the only smooth field that we had seen. The first of the
trucks, after its journey of thirty-six miles, was just arriving;
nevertheless it was not long after we had pitched camp that coffee was
ready, with which we wetted our dry snack. You should watch us veterans
pitch camp. Every tent is erected in fifteen minutes at most, less if
rain is threatening. I always hurry off early for the hay, leaving Bann
to finish pegging down, and to ditch if necessary. My haste saves delay;
today I got into the hay-barn just before a quartermaster came and formed
a line. I always lug away a full poncho; though the hay almost fills the
tent at first it soon packs down, and I want this amount to make sleep
easy, and to make sure that even if rain gets under the tent, we shall
sleep on an island in comfort. Tonight the weather promises to be fine,
so that Bann did no digging except fo