"We'll meet on the mountain side, and I hope we'll catch our game,
but don't you fellows fire into us in the dark."

Dick promised and his regiment marched away toward the slope. All were
on foot, of course, and they had received strict instructions to make no
noise. They turned northward, left the camp behind them, and were soon
hidden in the dark.

Dick was at the head of the column with Colonel Winchester and the
sergeant. Warner and Pennington were further back. The darkness was
heavy in the shadow of the slope and among the bushes, but, looking
backward, Dick clearly saw the camp of General Thomas with its thousands
of men and dozens of fires. Figures passed and repassed before the
flames, and the fused noises of a great camp came from the valley.

Dick took only a glance or two. His whole attention now was for the
sergeant, who was looking here and there and sniffing the air, like a
great hound seeking the trail. The soldier had melted into the scout,
and Colonel Winchester, knowing him so well, had, in effect, turned the
regiment over to him.

Dick and other young officers were sent back through the column to see
that they marched without noise. It was not difficult to enforce the
orders, as the men were filled with the ardor of the hunt, and would do
everything to insure its success. When Dick came back to the head of the
column he merely heard the tread of feet and the rustling of uniforms
against the bushes behind them.

The sergeant led on with unerring skill and instinct. They were rising