“You are undoubtedly right,” replied Warner.  “My relatives told me that I needed some fresh air, and I am taking it, although the process is attended with certain risks from bullets, swords, bayonets, cannon balls, and shells.  Still, I have made a very close mathematical calculation.  At home there is the chance of disease as well as here.  At home you may fall from a cliff, you may be drowned in a creek or river while bathing, a tree may fall on you, a horse may throw you and break your neck, or you may be caught in a winter storm and freeze to death.  But even if none of these things happens to you, you will die some day anyhow.  Now, my figures show me that the chance of death here in the war is only twenty-five per cent greater than it was at home, but physical activity and an open air continuously increase my life chances thirty-five per cent.  So, I make a net life gain of ten per cent.”

Whitley put his hand upon Warner’s shoulder.

“Boy,” he said, “you’re wonderful.  I can cheer up the lads by talkin’ of the good things to come, but you can prove by arithmetic, algebra an’ every other kind of mathematics that they’re bound to come.  You’re goin’ to be worth a lot wherever you are.”

“Thanks for your enconiums.  In any event we are gaining valuable experience.  Back there on the field of Bull Run I was able to demonstrate by my own hearing and imagination that a hundred thousand rebels could fire a million bullets a minute; that every one of those million bullets filled with a mortal spite against me was seeking my own particular person.”

Whitley gazed at him again with admiration.

“You’ve certainly got a wonderful fine big bag of words,” he said, “an’ whenever you need any you just reach in an’ take out a few a foot long or so.  But I reckon a lot of others felt the way you did, though they won’t admit it now.  Look, we’re nearly to Washington now.  See the dome of the Capitol over the trees there, an’ I can catch glimpses of roofs too.”

Dick and George also saw the capital, and cheered by the sight, they marched at a swifter gait.  Soon they turned into the main road, where the bulk of the army had already passed and saw swarms of stragglers ahead of them.  Journalists and public men met them, and Dick now learned how the truth about Bull Run had come to the capital.  The news of defeat had been the more bitter, because already they had been rejoicing there over success.  As late as five o’clock in the afternoon the telegraph had informed Washington of victory.  Then, after a long wait, had come the bitter despatch telling of defeat, and flying fugitives arriving in the night had exaggerated it tenfold.