“You’re a cheerful prophet, Red Blaze.”

“I meant if you didn’t take care of yourselves an’ keep a good lookout, which I know, of course, that you’re goin’ to do.  I was jest statin’ the other side of the proposition, tellin’ what would happen to keerless people, but Colonel Newcomb an’ Major Hertford ain’t keerless people.  Good-bye, Mr. Mason.  Mebbe I’ll see you ag’in before this war is over.”

“Good-bye, Red Blaze.  I truly hope so.”

The train was moving now and with a last powerful grasp of a friendly hand Dick went into the coach.  It was the first in the train.  Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford sat near the head of it, and Warner was just sitting down not far behind them.  Dick took the other half of the seat with the young Vermonter, who said, speaking in a whimsical tone: 

“You fill me with envy, Dick.  Why wasn’t it my luck to go with you, Sergeant Whitley, and the man they call Red Blaze on that errand and help bring back with you the message of President Lincoln?  But I heard what our red friend said to you at the car-step.  There’s a powerful lot in knowing the way, knowing where you’re going, and what’s along every inch of the road.  My arithmetic tells me that it is often fifty per cent of marching and fighting.”

“I think you are right,” said Dick.

A little later he was sound asleep in his seat, and at the command of Colonel Newcomb he was not disturbed.  His had been a task, taxing to the utmost both body and mind, and, despite his youth and strength, it would take nature some time to replace what had been worn away.

He slept on while the boys in the train talked and laughed.  Stern discipline was not yet enforced in either army, nor did Colonel Newcomb consider it necessary here.  These lads, so lately from the schools and farms, had won a victory and they had received the thanks of the President.  They had a right to talk about it among themselves and a little vocal enthusiasm now might build up courage and spirit for a greater crisis later.

The colonel, moreover, gave glances of approval and sympathy to his gallant young aide, who in the seat next to the window with his head against the wall slept so soundly.  All the afternoon Dick slept on, his breathing regular and steady.  The train rattled and rumbled through the high mountains, and on the upper levels the snow was falling fast.

Darkness came, and supper was served to the troops, but at the colonel’s command Dick was not awakened.  Nature had not yet finished her task of repairing.  There was worn tissue still to be replaced, and the nerves had not yet recovered their full steadiness.

So Dick slept on, while the night deepened and the snow continued to drive against the window panes.  Nor did he awake until morning, when the train stopped at a tiny station in the hills.  There was no snow here, but the sun, just rising, threw no heat, and icicles were hanging from every cliff.  Dispatches were waiting for Colonel Newcomb, and after breakfast he announced to his staff: