There was enough for twenty.
Red Blaze had spread among the villagers, every one of whom he knew,
the news that the Union arms had won a victory. Nor had it suffered
anything in the telling. Colonel Newcomb's regiment, by the most
desperate feats of gallantry, had beaten off at least ten thousand
Southerners, and the boy and the man in uniform, who were resting by the
fire in the station, had been the greatest two heroes of a battle waged
for a whole night.
Curious eyes gazed at Dick and the sergeant as they sat there by the
stove. Dick himself, warm, relaxed, and the needs of his body satisfied,
felt like going to sleep. But he watched the boy operator, who
presently finished his two dispatches and then lifted his head for the
first time.
"They've gone straight into Washington," he said. "We ought to get an
answer soon."
"We'll wait here for it," said Dick.
The three messengers were now thoroughly warmed at the stove, they
had eaten heartily of the best the village could furnish, and a great
feeling of comfort pervaded them. While they were waiting for the reply
that they hoped would come from Washington, Dick Mason and Sergeant
Whitley went outside. No snow was falling in the valley, but off on the
mountain crest they still saw the white veil, blown by the wind.
Red Blaze joined them and was everywhere their guide and herald.
He ascribed to them such deeds of skill and valor that they were
compelled to call him the best romancer they had met in a long time.
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