Warner and Pennington were lying on the ground, eating big red apples with much content and looking up lazily at Mason.

“You’re curving those glasses about a lot.  What do you see, Dick?” asked Pennington at length.

“I see Petersburg, an old, old town, half buried in foliage, and with many orchards and gardens about it.  A pity that two great armies should focus on such a pleasant place.”

“No time for sentiment, Dick.  What else do you see?”

“Jets of smoke and flame from the trenches, an irregular sort of firing, sometimes a half-dozen shots at one place, and then a long and peaceful break until you come to another place, where they’re exchanging bullets.”

“What more do you see, Brother Richard?”

“I see a Johnny come out of his trench hands up and advance toward one of our Yanks opposite, who also has come out of his trench hands up.”

“What are they trading?” asked Warner.

“The Reb offers a square of plug tobacco, and the Yank a bundle of newspapers.  Now they’ve made the exchange, now they’ve shaken hands and each is going back to his own trench.”

“It’s a merry world, my masters, as has been said before,” resumed Warner, “but I should add that it’s also a mad wag of a world.  Here we are face to face for forty miles, at some points seeking to kill one another in a highly impersonal way, and at other points conducting sale and barter according to the established customs of peace.  People at home wouldn’t believe it, and later on a lot more won’t believe it, when the writers come to write about it.  But it’s true just the same.  What else do you see from the apple tower, Brother Richard?”

“A long line of wagons approaching a camp some distance behind the Confederate trenches.  They must be loaded pretty heavily, because the drivers are cracking their whips over the horses and mules.”

“That’s bad.  Provisions, I suppose,” said Warner.  “The more these Johnnies get to eat the harder they fight, and they’re not supposed to be receiving supplies now.  Our cavalry ought to have cut off that wagon train.  I shall have to speak to Sheridan about it.  This is no way to starve the Johnnies to death.  Seest aught more, Brother Richard?”

“I do!  I do!  Jump up, boys, and use your own glasses!  I behold a large man on a gray horse, riding slowly along, as if he were inspecting troops away behind the trenches.  Wherever he passes the soldiers snatch off their caps and, although I can’t hear ’em, I know they’re cheering.  It’s Lee himself!”

Both Warner and Pennington swung themselves upon the lower boughs of the tree and put their glasses to their eyes.

“It’s surely Lee,” said Warner.  “I’m glad to get a look at him.  He’s been giving us a lot of trouble for more than three years now, but I think General Grant is going to take his measure.”

“They’re terribly reduced,” said Pennington, “and if we stick to it we’re bound to win.  Still, you boys will recall for some time that we’ve had a war.  What else do you see from the heights of the apple tree, Dick?”