"Nobody else," replied Dick gladly, stepping forward and offering his
hand, which young Woodville shook warmly. "I was hoping that I might
meet you, and I see, too, that you can't be hurt much, if at all."

"I haven't been touched. It's my lucky day, I suppose."

"Where's your uncle? I hope he's in some safe place, recovering from his
wound."

Victor Woodville laughed softly.

"Uncle Charles is recovering from his wound perhaps faster than you hope,"
he said, "but he's not in a safe place. Far from it."

"I don't understand."

"His wound is so much better that he can walk, though with a hop, and
he's right here in the thick of this battle, leading his own Mississippi
regiment. His horse was killed under him early this morning, and he's
fought all day on foot, swearing in the strange and melodious fashion
that you know. It's hop! swear! hop! swear! in beautiful alternation!"

"Good old colonel!"

"That's what he is, and he's also one of the bravest men that ever lived,
if he is my uncle. His regiment did prodigies to-day and they'll do
greater prodigies to-morrow. The Woodvilles are well represented here.
My father is present, leading his regiment, and there are a dozen
Woodville cousins of mine whom you've never met."