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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Great Western Campaign"


"It will be long after dark before we can reach camp," said Captain
Markham, sighing deeply. "Confound such roads. Why not call them
morasses and have done with it!"
"No, we can't make it much before midnight," said Dick, "but, after all,
that will be early enough. If I judge him right, even midnight won't
catch General Thomas asleep."
"You've judged him right," said Markham. "I've been with 'Pap' Thomas
some time--we call him 'Pap' because he takes such good care of us--and
I think he is going to be one of the biggest generals in this war.
Always silent, and sometimes slow about making up his mind he strikes
like a sledge-hammer when he does strike."
"He'll certainly have the opportunity to give blow for blow," said Dick,
as he remembered that marching army behind them. "How far do you think
it is yet to the general's camp?"
"Not more than a half dozen miles, but it will be dark in a few minutes,
and at the rate we're going it will take us two full hours more to get
there."
The wintry days were short and the sun slid down the gray, cold sky,
leaving forest and hills in darkness. But the little band toiled
patiently on, while the night deepened and darkened, and a chill wind
whistled down from the ridges. The officers were silent now, but
they looked eagerly for the first glimpse of the campfires of Thomas.
At last they saw the little pink dots in the darkness, and then they
pushed forward with new zeal, urging their weary horses into a run.


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