Now what is the news?"
"I don't know who Morpheus is," replied the sergeant, laughing, "but I'd
guess from your looks that he is another name for sleep. There is no
news of anything big happenin'. We've got a great army here, and Jackson
remains near our battlefield of yesterday. I should say that we number
at least fifty thousand men, or about twice the rebels."
"Then why don't we march against 'em at once?"
The sergeant shrugged his shoulders. It was not for him to tell why
generals did not do things.
"I think," he said, "that we're likely to stay here a day or two."
"Which means," said Dick, his alert mind interpreting at once, "that
our generals don't know what to do. Why is it that they always seem
paralyzed when they get in front of Stonewall Jackson? He's only a man
like the rest of them!"
He spoke with perfect freedom in the presence of Sergeant Whitley,
knowing that he would repeat nothing.
"A man, yes," said Warner, in his precise manner, "but not exactly like
the others. He seems to have more of the lightning flash about him.
What a pity such a leader should be on the wrong side! Perhaps we'll
have his equal in time.
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