His limbs were cold
and stiff, but his enforced exercise in crawling soon brought back their
flexibility. He passed between the pickets again, and, when he was
safely beyond their hearing, he rose and stretched himself again and
again.
The sergeant greatly preferred walking to crawling. Primitive men might
have crawled, but to do so made the modern man's knees uncommonly sore.
So he continued to stretch, to inhale great draughts of air, and to feel
proudly that he was a man who walked upright and not a bear or a pig
creeping on four legs through the bushes.
He reached his own army not long afterward, and, walking among the
thousands of sleeping forms, reached the tree under which Colonel
Winchester slept.
"Colonel," he said gently.
The colonel awoke instantly and sat up. Despite the dusk he recognized
Whitley at once.
"Well, sergeant?" he said.
"I've been clean over the ridge to the rebel camp. I reached the next
creek and lay on the heights just beyond it. I've seen with my own eyes
and I've heard with my own ears. They've only two divisions there,
though they're expectin' Polk to come up in the mornin' an' Bragg, too.
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