with its coveted hours of repose. The night did come, but it brought no
rest to the weary and footsore soldiers.

Tom was terribly fatigued. His knapsack, which had been light upon his
buoyant frame in the morning, now seemed to weigh two hundred pounds,
while his musket had grown proportionally heavy. Hour after hour, in the
darkness of that gloomy night, he trudged on, keeping his place in the
ranks with a resolution which neither the long hours nor the weary miles
could break down.

"I can't stand this much longer," whined Ben Lethbridge. "I shall drop
pretty soon, and die by the roadside."

"No, you won't," added Hapgood. "Stick to it a little while longer; never
say die."

"I can't stand it."

"Yes, you can. Only think you can, and you can," added the veteran.

"What do they think we are made of? We can't march all day and all night.
I wish I was at home."

"I wish I hadn't come," said Fred Pemberton.

"Cheer up! cheer up, boys. Stick to it a little longer," said the veteran.

It was three o'clock the next morning before they were permitted to halt,
when the boys rolled themselves up in their blankets, and dropped upon the
ground. It was positive enjoyment to Tom, and he felt happy; for rest was