When Dick awoke, bright light was pouring in at the car windows, but the
car was cold and his body was stiff and sore. His military overcoat had
been thrown over him in the night and Warner had been covered in the
same way. They did not know that Sergeant Whitley had done that
thoughtful act.

Dick stretched himself and drew deep breaths. Warm youth soon sent the
blood flowing in a full tide through his veins, and the stiffness and
soreness departed. He saw through the window that they were still
running among the mountains, but they did not seem to be so high here as
they were at the river by which they had fought in the night. He knew
from his geography and his calculation of time that they must be far
into that part of Virginia which is now West Virginia.

There was no rain now, at least where the train was running, but the sun
had risen on a cold world. Far up on the higher peaks he saw a fine
white mist which he believed to be falling snow. Obviously it was
winter here and putting on the big military coat he drew it tightly
about him. Others in the coach were waking up and some of them, grown
feverish with their wounds, were moving restlessly on their seats,
where they lay protected by the blankets of their fellows.

Dick now and then saw a cabin nestling in the lee of a hill, with the
blue smoke rising from its chimney into the clear, wintry air, and
small and poor as they were they gave him a singular sense of peace and
comfort. His mind felt for a few moments a strong reaction from war and
its terrors, but the impulse and the strong purpose that bore him on
soon came back.