“I do not feel sleepy at all, Hector,” said Colonel Leonidas Talbot.

“I could not possibly sleep, Leonidas,” said Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire.

“Then shall we?”

“Why not?”

Colonel Talbot produced from under his coat a small board, and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire took from under his own coat a small box.

They put the board upon a broad stone, arranged the chessmen, as they were at the latest interruption, and, as the moonlight came through the dwarfed pines and cedars, the two gray heads bent over the game.

CHAPTER XII

IN THE COVE

General Sheridan permitted the Winchester men to rest a long time, or rather he ordered them to do so.  No regiment had distinguished itself more at Cedar Creek or in the previous battles, and it was best for it to lie by a while, and recover its physical strength—­strength of the spirit it had never lost.  It also gave a needed chance to the sixteen slight wounds accumulated by Dick, Pennington and Warner to heal perfectly.

“Unless something further happens,” said Warner, regretfully, “I won’t have a single honorable scar to take back with me and show in Vermont.”

“I’ll have one slight, though honorable, scar, but I won’t be able to show it,” said Pennington, also with regret.

“I trust that it’s in front, Frank,” said Dick.

“It is, all right.  Don’t worry about that.  But what about you, Dick?”

“I had hopes of a place on my left arm just above the elbow.  A bullet, traveling at the rate of a million miles a minute, broke the skin there and took a thin flake of flesh with it, but I’m so terribly healthy it’s healed up without leaving a trace.”

“There’s no hope for us,” said Warner, sighing.  “We can never point to the proof of our warlike deeds.  You didn’t find your cousin among the prisoners?”

“No, nor was he among their fallen whom we buried.  Nor any of his friends either.  I’m quite sure that he escaped.  My intuition tells me so.”

“It’s not your intuition at all,” said Warner reprovingly.  “It’s a reasonable opinion, formed in your mind by antecedent conditions.  You call it intuition, because you don’t take the trouble to discover the circumstances that led to its production.  It’s only lazy minds that fall back upon second sight, mind-reading and such things.”

“Isn’t he the big-word man?” said Pennington admiringly.  “I tell you what, George, General Early is still alive somewhere, and we’re going to send you to talk him to death.  They say he’s a splendid swearer, one of the greatest that ever lived, but he won’t be able to get out a single cuss, with you standing before him, and spouting the whole unabridged dictionary to him.”

“At least when I talk I say something,” replied Warner sternly.  “It seems strange to me, Frank Pennington, that your life on the plains, where conditions, for the present at least, are hard, has permitted you to have so much frivolity in your nature.”