He had heard it called
Clark's Mountain, and it was about seven miles away from the Union army
which lay behind the Rapidan River.
Dick liked mountains, and the peak looked beautiful against the red and
yellow bars of the western horizon.
"Have you ever been over there?" he said to Pennington and Warner.
"No; but a lot of our scouts have," replied Pennington. "It's just a
mountain and nothing more. Funny how all those peaks and ridges crop
up suddenly around here out of what seems meant to have been a level
country."
"I like it better because it isn't level," said Dick. "I'm afraid George
and I wouldn't care much for your prairie country which just rolls on
forever, almost without trees and clear running streams."
"You would care for it," said Pennington stoutly. "You'd miss at first
the clear rivers and creeks, but then the spell of it would take hold of
you. The air you breathe isn't like the air you breathe anywhere else."
"We've got some air of our own in Vermont that we could brag about,
if we wanted to," said Warner, defiantly.
"It's good, but not as good as ours.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81