"I'm thinking that your guess is a good one," said Dick, as he rose to
his feet, "because Colonel Winchester is beckoning to me now."

"And there's a call for me, too," said Ohio, rising. "Talk of a thing
and it happens. We're surely going for those lights."

They had reckoned right. General Thomas, when he saw the signals,
had summoned some of his best officers and they had talked together
earnestly. The general had not said much before, but the incessant
sharpshooting from the bushes and slopes as they marched southward had
caused him intense annoyance, and, if continued, he knew that it would
hurt the spirit of the troops.

"We shall try to trap Slade's band to-night," said Colonel Winchester to
Dick and the other young officers who gathered around him. "We think he
has three or four hundred men and my regiment can deal with that number.
We will defile to the right without noise and make our way up the
mountain. An Ohio regiment, which can also deal with Slade if it catches
him, will defile to the left. Maybe we can trap these irregulars between
us. Sergeant Whitley will guide my force."

The sergeant stepped forward, proud of the honor and trust. Dick,
looking at him in the moonlight, said to himself for the hundredth time
that he was a magnificent specimen of American manhood, thick, powerful,
intelligent, respectful to his superior officers, who often knew less
than he did, a veteran from whom woods, hills, and plains hid few
secrets. He thought it a good thing that the sergeant was to be their
guide, because he would lead them into no ambush.

As Dick turned away for departure Ohio said to him: