The garden is very fine this year.  The vegetables were never more plentiful, and never of a finer quality.  I wish you were here for your share.  It must be a trial to have to eat hard crackers and tough beef and pork day after day.  I should think that you would grow to hate the sight of them.  Sam, the colored man who has been with us so long, has proved as faithful and trustworthy as Juliana.  He makes a most excellent farmer, and the yield of corn in the bottom land is going to be amazing.

They say that since the Federal successes in the West the operations of Skelly’s band of guerrillas have become bolder, but he has not threatened Pendleton again.  They say also that a little farther south a band of like character, who call themselves Southern, under a man named Slade, are ravaging, but I suppose that you, who see great generals and great armies daily, are not much concerned about outlaws.

Always keep your feet dry and warm if you can, and never fail to spread a blanket between you and the damp grass.  Give my respects to Colonel Winchester.  Tell him that we hear of him now and then in Kentucky and that we hear only good.  Don’t forget about the blanket.

* * * *

There was more, but it was these passages over which Dick lingered longest.

He read the letter three times—­letters were rare in those years, and men prized them highly—­and put it away in his strongest pocket.  Colonel Winchester was standing by the edge of the brook, and Dick, saluting him, said: 

“My mother wishes me to deliver to you her respects and best wishes.”

A flush showed through the tan of the colonel’s face, and Dick, noticing it, was startled by a sudden thought.  At first his feeling was jealousy, but it passed in an instant, never to come again.  There was no finer man in the world than Colonel Winchester.

“She is well,” he added, “and affairs could go no better at Pendleton.”

“I am glad,” said Colonel Winchester simply.  Then he turned to a man with very broad shoulders and asked: 

“How are the new lads coming on?”

“Very well, sir,” replied Sergeant Daniel Whitley.  “Some of ’em are a little awkward yet, and a few are suffering from change of water, but they’re good boys and we can depend on ’em, sir, when the time comes.”

“Especially since you have been thrashing ’em into shape for so many days, sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir.”

An orderly came with a message for Colonel Winchester, who left at once, but Dick and the sergeant, his faithful comrade and teacher, stood beside the stream.  They could easily see the bathers farther down, splashing in the water, pulling one another under, and, now and then, hurling a man bodily into the pool.  They were all boys to the veteran.  Many of them had been trained by him, and his attitude toward them was that of a school teacher toward his pupils.