Once more he saw the field of Manassas which had been
lost so hardly the year before. He remembered every hill and brook and
curve of the little river, because they had been etched into his brain
with steel and fire. How could anyone forget that day?
"Looks as if we might fight our battle of last year over again, but on a
much bigger scale," he said to Warner.
"Here or hereabouts," said the Vermonter, "and I think we ought to win.
They've got the better generals, but we've got more men. Besides,
our troops are becoming experienced and they've shown their mettle.
Dick, here's a farmer gathering corn. Let's ask him some questions,
but I'll wager you a hundred to one before we begin that he knows
absolutely nothing about the rebel army. In fact, I doubt that he will
know of its existence."
"I won't take your bet," said Dick.
They called to the man, a typical Virginia farmer in his shirt sleeves,
tall and spare, short whiskers growing under his chin. There was not
much difference between him and his brother farmer in New England.
"Good-day," said Warner.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77