The Union ain't smashed up yet. Just recollect whenever it's dark
that light's bound to come later on. What do you say to that, Long
Legs?"
He spoke to a very tall and very thin youth who marched about a half
dozen feet away from them. The boy, who seemed to be about eighteen
years of age, turned to them a face which was pale despite the Virginia
sun. But it was the pallor of indoor life, not of fear, as the
countenance was good and strong, long, narrow, the chin pointed, the
nose large and bridged like that of an old Roman, the eyes full blue
and slightly nearsighted. But there was a faint twinkle in those same
nearsighted eyes as he replied in precise tones:
"According to all the experience of centuries and all the mathematical
formulae that can be deduced therefrom night is bound to be followed
by day. We have been whipped by the rebels, but it follows with
arithmetical certainty that if we keep on fighting long enough we will
whip them in time. Let x equal time and y equal opportunity. Then when
x and y come together we shall have x plus y which will equal success.
Does my logic seem cogent to you, Mr. Big Shoulders and Big Hands?"
Whitley stared at him in amazement and admiration.
"I haven't heard so many big words in a long time," he said, "an' then,
too, you bring 'em out so nice an' smooth, marchin' in place as regular
as a drilled troop."
"I've been drilled too," said the tall boy, smiling.
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