For the moment, the physical overcame the mental in Dick. It was enough
to eat and to rest and to feel secure. Thousands of friendly faces were
around them, and they would not have to fight in either day or dark for
their lives. Their bones ceased to ache, and the good food and the good
coffee began to rebuild the worn tissues. What did the rest matter?
After breakfast these men who had marched and fought for nearly twenty
hours were told to sleep. Only one command was needed. It was August,
and the dry grass and the soft earth were good enough for anybody.
The three lads, each with an arm under his head, slept side by side.
At noon they were still sleeping, and Colonel Winchester, as he was
passing, looked at the three, but longest at Dick. His gaze was half
affection, half protection, but it was not the boy alone whom he saw.
He saw also his fair-haired young mother in that little town on the
other side of the mountains.
While Dick still slept, the minds of men were at work. Pope's army,
hitherto separated, was now called together by a battle. Troops from
every direction were pouring upon the common center.
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