while I slept, but I was lucky and didn't know about it."

"You talk too long," said Pennington. "That comes of your having taught
school. You could talk all day to boys younger than yourself, and they
were afraid to answer back."

"Shut up, both of you," said Dick. "Here comes the sergeant, and I think
from his look he has something to say worth hearing."

Sergeant Whitley had cleansed the blood and dust from his face, and a
handkerchief tied neatly around his head covered up the small wound
there. He looked trim and entirely restored, both mentally and
physically.

"Well, sergeant," said Dick ingratiatingly, "if any thing has happened
in this army you're sure to know of it. We'd have known it ourselves,
but we had an important engagement with Morpheus, a world away, and we
had to keep it. Now what is the news?"

"I don't know who Morpheus is," replied the sergeant, laughing, "but I'd
guess from your looks that he is another name for sleep. There is no
news of anything big happenin'. We've got a great army here, and Jackson
remains near our battlefield of yesterday. I should say that we number
at least fifty thousand men, or about twice the rebels."

"Then why don't we march against 'em at once?"

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders. It was not for him to tell why
generals did not do things.