The watchers on the hills were still there, despite the rain, but they did no sharpshooting.  Nor did the Southern force do damage to anybody or anything, as it passed.  Near noon Sherburne resolved to build a fire in a cove protected by cliffs and heavy timber, and give his men warm food lest they become dispirited.

It was a task to set the wet wood, but the men of his command, used to forest life, soon mastered it.  Then they threw on boughs and whole tree trunks, until a great bonfire blazed and roared merrily, thrusting out innumerable tongues of red and friendly flame.

“Is there anything more beautiful than a fine fire at such a time?” said St. Clair to Harry.  “As it blazes and eats into the wood it crackles and those crackling sounds are words.”

“What do the words say?”

“They say, ’Come here and stand before me.  So long as you respect me and don’t come too close I’ll do you nothing but good.  I’ll warm you and I’ll dry you.  I’ll drive the wet from your skin and your clothes, and I’ll chase the cold out of your body and bones.  I’ll take hold of your depressed and sunken heart and lift it up again.  Where you saw only gray and black I’ll make you see gold and red.  I’ll warm and cook your food for you, giving you fresh life and strength.  With my crackling coals and my leaping flames I’ll change your world of despair into a world of hope.’”

“Hear!  Hear!” said Happy Tom.  “Arthur has turned from a sodden soldier into a giddy poet!  Is any more poetry left in the barrel, Arthur?”

“Plenty, but I won’t turn on the tap again to-day.  I’ve translated for you.  I’ve shown you where beauty and happiness lie, and you must do the rest for yourself.”

They crowded about the huge fire which ran the entire length of the cove, and watched the cooks who had brought their supplies on horseback.  Great quantities of coffee were made, and they had bacon and hard biscuits.

Although the rain still reached them in the cove they forgot it as they ate the good food—­any food was good to them—­and drank cup after cup of hot coffee.  Youthful spirits rose once more.  It wasn’t such a bad day after all!  It had rained many times before and people still lived.  Also, the Potomac had risen many times before, but it always fell again.  They were riding to clear the way for Lee’s invincible army which could go wherever it wanted to go.

“Men on horseback looking at us!” hailed Happy Tom.  “About fifty on a low hill on our right.  Look like Yankee cavalrymen.  Wonder what they take us for anyway!”

Harry, St. Clair, Langdon and Dalton walked to the edge of the cove, every one holding a cup of hot coffee in his hand.  Sherburne was already there and with his glasses was examining the strange group, as well as he could through the sweeping rain.

“A scouting party undoubtedly,” he said, “but weather has made their uniforms and ours look just about alike.  It’s equally certain though that they’re Yankees.  No troop of ours so small would be found here.”