A man I know at home says he's kept out of a
lot of trouble by 'never writin' nothin' to nobody.' And if you do write
a letter the next best thing is to burn it as quick as you can."
"If my eyes tell the truth, and they do," said Pennington, "here comes
a short, thick man riding a long, thick horse and he--the man, not the
horse--bears a startling resemblance to our friend, ally, guide and
sometime mentor, Sergeant Daniel Whitley."
"Yes, it's the sergeant," said Dick, looking down into the valley,
"and I'm glad he's joining us. Do you know, boys, I often think these
veteran sergeants know more than some of our generals."
"It's not an opinion. It's a fact," said Warner. "Hi, there, sergeant!
Here are your friends! Come up and make the same empty report that we've
got ready for the colonel."
Sergeant Daniel Whitley looked at the three lads, and his face
brightened. He had a good intellect under his thatch of hair, and a warm
heart within his strong body. The boys, although lieutenants, and he
only a sergeant in the ranks, treated him usually as an equal and often
as a superior.
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