They heard early the next morning the sound of many trumpets and Colonel Winchester’s regiment formed for embarkation.  All the puffing steamers were now in the Ohio, and Dick saw with them many other vessels which were not used for carrying soldiers.  He saw broad, low boats, with flat bottoms, their sides sheathed in iron plates.  They were floating batteries moved by powerful engines beneath.  Then there were eight huge mortars, a foot across the muzzle, every one mounted separately upon a strong barge and towed.  Some of the steamers were sheathed in iron also.

Dick’s heart throbbed hard when he saw the great equipment.  The fighting ships were under the command of Commodore Foote, an able man, but General Grant and his lieutenants, General McClernand and General Smith, commanded the army aboard the transports.  On the transport next to them Dick saw the Pennsylvanians and he waved his hand to his friends who stood on the deck.  They waved back, and Dick felt powerfully the sense of comradeship.  It warmed his heart for them all to be together again, and it was a source of strength, too.

The steamer that bore his regiment was named the River Queen, and many of her cabins had been torn away to make more room for the troops who would sleep in rows on her decks, as thick as buffaloes in a herd.  The soldiers, like all the others whom he saw, were mostly boys.  The average could not be over twenty, and some were not over sixteen.  But they had the adaptability of youth.  They had scattered themselves about in easy positions.  One was playing an accordion, and another a fiddle.  The officers did not interrupt them.

As Dick looked over the side at the yellow torrent some one said beside him: 

“This is a whopping big river.  You don’t see them as deep as this where I come from.”

Dick glanced at the speaker, and saw a lad of about his own age, of medium height, but powerfully built, with shoulders uncommonly thick.  His face was tanned brown, but his eyes were blue and his natural complexion was fair.  He was clad completely in deerskin, mocassins on his feet and a raccoon skin cap on his head.  Dick had noticed the Nebraska hunters in such garb, but he was surprised to see this boy dressed in similar fashion among the Kentuckians.

The youth smiled when he saw Dick’s glance of surprise.

“I know I look odd among you,” he said, “and you take me for one of the Nebraska hunters.  So I am, but I’m a Kentuckian, too, and I’ve a right to a place with you fellows.  My name is Frank Pennington.  I was born about forty miles north of Pendleton, but when I was six months old my parents went out on the plains, where I’ve hunted buffalo, and where I’ve fought Indians, too.  But I’m a Kentuckian by right of birth just as you are, and I asked to be assigned to the regiment raised in the region from which we came.”

“And mighty welcome you are, too,” said Dick, offering his hand.  “You belong with us, and we’ll stick together on this campaign.”