“Yes, the water is with us, and will stay with us.”

They were silent a little while longer and watched the coming of the early winter twilight over the waters and the lonely land.  The sky was so heavy with clouds that the gray seemed to melt into the brown.  The low banks slipped back into the dark.  They saw only the near surface of the river, the dark hulls of the fleet, occasional showers of sparks from smoke stacks, and an immense black cloud made by the smoke of the fleet, trailing behind them far down the river.

“Dick,” said Colonel Winchester suddenly, “as you came across Kentucky from Mill Spring, and passed so near Pendleton it must have been a great temptation to you to stop and see your mother.”

“It was.  It was so great that I yielded to it.  I was at our home about midnight for nearly an hour.  I hope I did nothing wrong, colonel.”

“No, Dick, my boy.  Some martinets might find fault with you, but I should blame you had you not stopped for those few moments.  A noble woman, your mother, Dick.  I hope that she is watched over well.”

Dick glanced at the colonel, but he could not see his face in the deepening twilight.

“My uncle, Colonel Kenton, has directed his people to give her help in case of need,” he replied, “but that means physical help against raiders and guerillas.  Otherwise she has sufficient for her support.”

“That is well.  War is terrible on women.  And now, Dick, my lad, we’ll get our supper.  This nipping air makes me hungry, and the Northern troops do not suffer for lack of food.”

The officers ate in one of the cabins, and when the supper was finished deep night had come over the river, but Dick, standing on the deck, heard the heavy throb of many engines, and he knew that a great army was still around him, driven on by the will of one man, deep into the country of the foe.

The decks, every foot of plank it seemed, were already covered with the sleeping boys, wrapped in their blankets and overcoats.  He saw his friend, the young hunter from Nebraska, lying with his head on his arm, sound asleep, a smile on his face.

Dick watched until the first darkness thinned somewhat, and the stars came out.  Then he retired to one of the cabins, which he shared with three or four others, and slept soundly until he was aroused for breakfast.  He had not undressed, and, bathing his face, he went out at once on the deck.  Many of the soldiers were up, there was a hum of talk, and all were looking curiously at the river up which they were steaming.

They were in the Tennessee, having passed in the night the little town of Paducah—­now an important city—­at its mouth.  It was not so broad as the Ohio, but it was broad, nevertheless, and it had the aspect of great depth.  But here, as on the Ohio, they seemed to be steaming through the wilderness.  The banks were densely wooded, and the few houses that may have been near were hidden by the trees.  No human beings appeared upon the banks.