The next Monday Stephen had a caller.  It was little Tiefel, now a first lieutenant with a bristly beard and tanned face, come to town on a few days’ furlough.  He had been with Lyon at Wilson’s Creek, and he had a sad story to tell of how he found poor Richter, lying stark on that bloody field, with a smile of peace upon his face.  Strange that he should at length have been killed by a sabre!

It was a sad meeting for those two, since each reminded the other of a dear friend they would see no more on earth.  They went out to sup together in the German style; and gradually, over his beer, Tiefel forgot his sorrow.  Stephen listened with an ache to the little man’s tales of the campaigns he had been through.  So that presently Tiefel cried out: 

“Why, my friend, you are melancholy as an owl.  I will tell you a funny story.  Did you ever hear of one General Sherman?  He that they say is crazy?”

“He is no more crazy than I am,” said Stephen, warmly—­

“Is he not?” answered Tiefel, “then I will show you a mistake.  You recall last November he was out to Sedalia to inspect the camp there, and he sleeps in a little country store where I am quartered.  Now up gets your General Sherman in the middle of the night,—­midnight,—­and marches up and down between the counters, and waves his arms.  So, says he, ’land so,’ says he, ’Sterling Price will be here, and Steele here, and this column will take that road, and so-and-so’s a damned fool.  Is not that crazy?  So he walks up and down for three eternal hours.  Says he, ’Pope has no business to be at Osterville, and Steele here at Sedalia with his regiments all over the place.  They must both go into camp at La Mine River, and form brigades and divisions, that the troops may be handled.’”

“If that’s insanity,” cried Stephen so strongly as to surprise the little man; “then I wish we had more insane generals.  It just shows how a malicious rumor will spread.  What Sherman said about Pope’s and Steele’s forces is true as Gospel, and if you ever took the trouble to look into that situation, Tiefel, you would see it.”  And Stephen brought down his mug on the table with a crash that made the bystanders jump.

“Himmel!” exclaimed little Tiefel.  But he spoke in admiration.

It was not a month after that that Sherman’s prophecy of the quiet general who had slid down the bluff at Belmont came true.  The whole country bummed with Grant’s praises.  Moving with great swiftness and secrecy up the Tennessee, in company with the gunboats of Commodore Foote, he had pierced the Confederate line at the very point Sherman had indicated.  Fort Henry had fallen, and Grant was even then moving to besiege Donelson.

Mr. Brinsmade prepared to leave at once for the battlefield, taking with him too Paducah physicians and nurses.  All day long the boat was loading with sanitary stores and boxes of dainties for the wounded.  It was muggy and wet—­characteristic of that winter—­as Stephen pushed through the drays on the slippery levee to the landing.