"
The three boys rode on in sober silence. The words of the ancient
philosopher were soaking in with the rain.
"Suppose we don't come back from Stone River," said Pennington.
"We take our chances, of course," said Dick.
"And suppose what he said about the South should prove true," said Warner,
thoughtfully. "One part of it, at least, is bound to come true. That
phrase of his sticks in my mind: 'Mebbe the South can be whipped, but she
can't be moved.' The Southern states, as he says, will be here just the
same after the war is over, no matter who wins."
But such thoughts as these could not endure long in minds so young.
They passed through the village and soon were in the forests of red
cedar. The rain ceased, but in its place came a thick and heavy fog.
The mud grew deeper than ever. Progress became very slow. It was
difficult in the great foggy veil for the regiments to keep in touch with
one another, and occasional shots in front warned them that the enemy
was active and watchful. The division barely crept along.
Dick and his comrades were mounted again, and they kept close to Colonel
Winchester, who, however, had few orders to send.
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