He lifted the rails into place with mighty arms, but never ceased to sing.  The boy who helped him seemed almost his equal in strength, but he neither sang nor spoke.  Yet he smiled most of the time, showing rows of exceedingly strong, white teeth.

“They seem to me to be of rather superior type,” said Dick.  “Maybe we can get useful information from them.”

“I judge that the singer will talk about almost everything except what we want to know,” said the shrewd and experienced sergeant, “but we can certainly do no harm by speaking to him.  Of course they have seen us.  No doubt they saw us before we saw them.”

The three rode forward, saluted politely and the fence-menders, stopping their work, saluted in the same polite fashion.  Then they stood expectant.

“We belong to a detachment which is marching southward to join the Union army under General Thomas,” said Dick.  “Perhaps you could tell us the best road.”

“I might an’ ag’in I mightn’t, stranger.  If you don’t talk much you never have much to take back.  If I knew where that army is it would be easy for me to tell you, but if I didn’t know I couldn’t.  Now, the question is, do I know or don’t I know?  Do you think you can decide it for me stranger?”

It was impossible for Dick or the sergeant to take offense.  The man’s gaze was perfectly frank and open and his eyes twinkled as he spoke.  The boy with him smiled widely, showing both rows of his powerful white teeth.

“We can’t decide it until we know you better,” said Dick in a light tone.

“I’m willin’ to tell you who I am.  My name is Sam Jarvis, an’ this lunkhead here is my nephew, Ike Simmons, the son of my sister, who keeps my house.  Now I want to tell you, young stranger, that since this war began and the Yankees and the Johnnies have taken a notion to shoot up one another, people who would never have thought of doin’ it before, have come wanderin’ into these mountains.  But you can get a hint about ’em sometimes.  Young man, do you want me to tell you your name?”

“Tell me my name!” responded Dick in astonishment.  “Of course you can’t do it!  You never saw or heard of me before.”

“Mebbe no,” replied Jarvis, with calm confidence, “but all the same your name is Dick Mason, and you come from a town in Kentucky called Pendleton.  You’ve been serving with the Yanks in the East, an’ you’ve a cousin, named Harry Kenton, who’s been servin’ there also, but with the Johnnies.  Now, am I a good guesser or am I just a plum’ ignorant fool?”

Dick stared at him in deepening amazement.

“You do more than guess,” he replied.  “You know.  Everything that you said is true.”

“Tell me this,” said Jarvis.  “Was that cousin of yours, Harry Kenton, killed in the big battle at Bull Run?  I’ve been tremenjeously anxious about him ever since I heard of that terrible fight.”

“He was not.  I have not seen him since, but I have definite news now that he passed safely through the battle.”