But Warner abated his confidence not one jot.
"The chance of our moving against Donelson is one hundred per cent,"
he said. "I passed the General today and his lips were shut tight
together, which means a resolve to do at all costs what one has intended
to do. I still admit that the prophets and the sons of prophets live
no more, but I predict with absolute certainty that we will move in the
morning."
The Vermonter's faith was justified. The army, being put in thorough
trim, started at dawn upon its momentous march. Wintry fogs were rising
from the great river and the submerged lowlands, and the air was full of
raw, penetrating chill. An abundant breakfast was served to everybody,
and then with warmth and courage the lads of the west and northwest
marched forward with eagerness to an undertaking which they knew would
be far greater than the capture of Fort Henry.
Dick and Pennington, as staff officers, were mounted, although the
horses that had been furnished to them were not much more than ponies.
Warner rode with Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford, who led the slender
Pennsylvania detachment beside the Kentucky regiment. Thus the army
emerged from its camp and began the march toward the Cumberland.
It was now about fifteen thousand strong, but it expected reinforcements,
and its fleet held the command of the rivers.
As they entered the leafless forest Dick saw ahead of them, perhaps a
quarter of a mile away, a numerous band of horsemen wearing faded
Confederate gray.
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