It had a certain
weird effect in the night and the loneliness. Harry wished to know who
they were at that far campfire. His own cousin, Dick Mason, might be
there.
"Although we're arrayed for war," said St. Clair, "the sentinels are
often friendly. They even exchange plugs of tobacco and news. The
officers have not been able to stop it wholly. Our sentinels tell
theirs that we'll be in Washington in a month, and theirs tell ours
that they've already engaged rooms in the Richmond hotels for July."
"When two prophets disagree both can't be right," said Harry. "How far
away would you say that light is, Arthur?"
"About a mile and a half. Let's scout a little in that direction.
There are no commands against it. Enterprise is encouraged."
"Just what I'd like," said Harry, who was eager for action.
Leaving their own men under the command of a reliable sergeant named
Carrick, the two youths crossed the brook and advanced over a fairly
level stretch of country toward the fire. Small clusters of trees were
scattered here and there, and beyond them was a field of young corn.
The two paused in one of the little groves about a hundred yards from
their own outposts and looked back.
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