splendid order from Arlington to Washington, where the train that was
to bear them to new fields and unknown fortunes was ready.

It was a long train of many coaches, as the regiment numbered seven
hundred men, and it also carried with it four guns, mounted on trucks.
The coaches were all of primitive pattern. The soldiers were to sleep
on the seats, and their arms and supplies were heaped in the aisles.
It was a cold, drizzling day of closing autumn, and the capital looked
sodden and gloomy. Cameron, the Secretary of War, came to see them off
and to make the customary prediction concerning their valor and victory
to come. But he was a cold man, and he was repellent to Dick, used to
more warmth of temperament.

Then, with a ringing of bells, a heave of the engine, a great puffing of
smoke, and a mighty rattling of wheels, the train drew out of Washington
and made its noisy way toward Baltimore. Dick and Warner were on the
same seat. It was only forty miles to Baltimore, but their slow train
would be perhaps three hours in arriving. So they had ample opportunity
to see the country, which they examined with the curious eyes of youth.
But there was little to see. The last leaves were falling from the
trees under the early winter rain. Bare boughs and brown grass went
past their windows and the fields were deserted. The landscape looked
chill and sullen.

Warner was less depressed than Dick. He had an even temperament based
solidly upon mathematical calculations. He knew that while it might
be raining today, the chances were several to one against its raining
tomorrow.

"I've good cause to remember Baltimore," he said. "I was with the New