“Toward us.”

“Then we’re likely to get a little of that snow.  The clouds will blow off the mountains and sprinkle us with flakes in the valley.”

“I like winter in peace, but not in war,” said Pennington.  “It makes campaigning hard.  It’s no fun marching at night in a driving storm of snow or hail.”

“But what we can’t help we must stand,” said Warner with resignation.

Both predictions, the one about the snow and the other concerning the duty that would be assigned to them, quickly came to pass.  Before sunset the blue line of the Alleghanies was lost wholly in mist and vapor.  Then great flakes began to fall on the camp, and the young officers were glad to find refuge in their tents.

It was not a heavy snow fall where they were, but it blew down at intervals all through the night, and the next morning it lay upon the ground to the depth of an inch or so.  Then the second part of the prophecy was justified.  Colonel Winchester himself aroused all his staff and heads of companies.

“A fine crisp winter morning for us to take a ride,” he said cheerfully.  “General Sheridan has become vexed beyond endurance over the doings of Slade and Skelly, and he has chosen his best band of guerrilla-hunters to seek ’em out in their lairs and annihilate ’em.”

“I knew it,” groaned Pennington in an undertone to Dick.  “I was as certain of it as if I had read the order already.”  But aloud he said as he saluted:  “We’re glad we’re chosen for the honor, sir.  I speak for Mr. Mason, Mr. Warner and myself.”

“I’m glad you’re thankful,” laughed the colonel.  “A grateful and resolute heart always prepares one for hardships, and we’ll have plenty of them over there in the high mountains, where the snow lies deep.  But we have new horses, furnished especially for this expedition, and Sergeant Whitley and Mr. Shepard will guide us.  The sergeant can hear or see anything within a quarter of a mile of him, and Mr. Shepard, being a native of the valley, knows also all the mountains that close it in.”

The young lieutenants were sincerely glad the sergeant and Shepard were to go along, as with them they felt comparatively safe from ambush, a danger to be dreaded where Slade and Skelly were concerned.

“We agreed that General Sheridan was worth ten thousand men,” said Warner, “and I believe that the battle of Cedar Creek proved it.  Now if Sheridan is worth ten thousand, the sergeant and Shepard are certainly worth a thousand each.  It’s a simple algebraic problem which I could demonstrate to you by the liberal use of x and y, but in your case it’s not necessary.  You must accept my word for it.”

“We’ll do it!  We’ll do it! say no more!” exclaimed Pennington hastily.