Dick knew why the men did not come forth to see the ships.  The southwestern part of the state, the old Jackson’s Purchase, and the region immediately adjacent, was almost solidly for the South.  They would not find here that division of sentiment, with the majority inclined to the North, that prevailed in the higher regions of Kentucky.  The country itself was different.  It was low and the waters that came into the Tennessee flowed more sluggishly.

But Dick was sure that keen eyes were watching the fleet from the undergrowth, and he had no doubt that every vessel had long since been counted and that every detail of the fleet had been carried to the Southern garrisons in the fort.

The cold was as sharp as on the day before, and Dick, like the others, rejoiced in the hot and abundant breakfast.  The boats, an hour or two later, stopped at a little landing, and many of the lads would gladly have gone ashore for a few moments, risking possible sharpshooters in the woods, but not one was allowed to leave the vessels.  But Dick’s steamer lay so close to the one carrying the Pennsylvanians that he could talk across the few intervening feet of water with Warner and Whitley.  He also took the opportunity to introduce his new friend Pennington, of Nebraska.

“Are you the son of John Pennington, who lived for a little while at Fort Omaha?” asked the sergeant.

“Right you are,” replied the young hunter, “I’m his third son.”

“Then you’re the third son of a brave man.  I was in the regular army and often we helped the pioneers against the Indians.  I remember being in one fight with him against the Sioux on the Platte, and in another against the Northern Cheyennes in the Jumping Sand Hills.”

“Hurrah!” cried Pennington.  “I’m sorry I can’t jump over a section of the Tennessee River and shake hands with you.”

“We’ll have our chance later,” said the sergeant.  At that moment the fleet started again, and the boats swung apart.  Through Dick’s earnest solicitation young Pennington was taken out of the ranks and attached to the staff of Colonel Winchester as an orderly.  He was well educated, already a fine campaigner, and beyond a doubt he would prove extremely useful.

They steamed the entire day without interruption.  Now and then the river narrowed and they ran between high banks.  The scenery became romantic and beautiful, but always wild.  The river, deep at any time, was now swollen fifteen feet more by floods on its upper courses, and the water always lapped at the base of the forest.

Dick and Pennington, standing side by side, saw the second sun set over their voyage, and it was as wild and lonely as the first.  There was a yellow river again, and hills covered with a bare forest.  Heavy gray clouds trooped across the sky, and the sun was lost among them before it sank behind the hills in the west.