"Take this big tin cup of coffee, Dick," said Warner. "It'll warm you
through and through, and we're entitled to a long, brown drink for our
victory. I say victory because the chances are ninety-nine per cent out
of a hundred that it is so. Let x equal our army, let y equal victory,
and consequently x plus y equals our position at the present time."
"And I never thought that we could do it," said young Pennington,
who sat with them. "I suppose it all comes of having a general who
won't give up. I reckon the old saying is true, an' that Hold Fast is
the best dog of them all."
Now came a period of waiting. Colonel Winchester disappeared in the
direction of General Grant's headquarters, but returned after a while
and called his favorite aide, young Richard Mason.
"Dick," he said, "we have summoned the Southerners to surrender, and I
want you to go with me to a conference of their generals. You may be
needed to carry dispatches."
Dick went gladly with the group of Union officers, who approached Fort
Donelson under the white flag, and who met a group of Confederate
officers under a like white flag. He noticed in the very center of the
Southern group the figure of General Buckner, a tall, well-built man
in his early prime, his face usually ruddy, now pale with fatigue and
anxiety. Dick, with his uncle, Colonel Kenton, and his young cousin,
Harry Kenton, had once dined at his house.
Nearly all the officers, Northern and Southern, knew one another well.
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