But these facts and reckonings were not much in Dick's mind just then.
He was thinking of Buell's camp and of the message that he bore.
Again and again he felt of that little inside pocket of his vest to see
that it was there, although he knew that by no chance could he have lost
it.
When he was within fifteen miles of Buell's camp a heavy snow began to
fall. But he did not mind it. The powerful horse that had borne him so
well carried him safely on to his destination, and before the sundown
of that day the young messenger was standing before General Don Carlos
Buell, one of the most puzzling characters whom he was to meet in the
whole course of the war. He had found Thomas a silent man, but he found
Buell even more so. He received Dick in an ordinary tent, thanked him
as he saluted and handed him the dispatch, and then read General Thomas'
message.
Dick saw before him a shortish, thickset man, grim of feature, who did
not ask him a word until he had finished the dispatch.
"You know what this contains?" he said, when he came to the end.
"Yes, General Thomas made me memorize it, that I might destroy it if I
were too hard pressed."
"He tells us that Johnston is preparing for some great blow and he
gives the numbers and present location of the hostile forces. Valuable
information for us, if it is used. You have done well, Mr. Mason.
To what force were you attached?"
"A small division of Pennsylvania troops under Major Hertford.
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