wooded densely, but the crest was quite bare. Upon it sat a solitary
figure on horseback, evidently watching the marching column.

Dick put his glasses to his eyes. The hill and the lone sentinel
enlarged suddenly and came nearer. The pulses in his temples beat hard.
Although he could not see the watcher's face clearly, because he too was
using glasses, he knew him instantly. He would have known that heroic
figure and the set of the shoulders and head anywhere. He felt
astonishment at first, but it passed quickly. It was likely that they
should meet again some time or other, since the field of battle had
narrowed so much.

Sergeant Whitley, who invariably saw everything, had seen Dick's slight
start.

"Someone you know, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, sergeant. It's my cousin, Harry Kenton. You've heard me talk of
him often. A finer and braver and stronger fellow never lived. He's
using glasses too and I've no doubt he's recognized me."

Dick suddenly waved his glasses aloft, and Harry Kenton replied in like
manner.

"He sees and knows me!" cried Dick.

But the sergeant was very sober. He foresaw that these youths, bound by
such ties of blood and affection, might come into battle against each
other. The same thought was in Dick's mind, despite his pleasure at the
distant view of Harry.