"What's dithyrambic?" asked Pennington.

"Spouting, Frank. But George, as we know, is a queer fellow. They grow
'em in Vermont, where they love steep mountains, deep ravines and hard
mathematics."

They had been speaking in low tones, but now they ceased entirely.
Shepard had come back from the forest, reporting that the junction of the
roads was near, and the Confederate force was marching toward it at the
utmost speed.

The hostile columns might be in conflict in a half hour now, and the men
prepared themselves. Innumerable battles and skirmishes could never keep
their hearts from beating harder when it became evident that they were to
go under fire once more. After the few orders necessary, there was no
sound save that of the march itself. Meanwhile the moon and stars were
doing full duty, and the night remained as bright as ever.




CHAPTER IV

THE FIGHT AT THE CROSSWAYS


Colonel Hertford was near the head of the Union column, while the three
youths rode a little farther back with Colonel Winchester, the regiment
of Colonel Bedford bringing up the rear. Just behind Dick was Sergeant
Whitley, mounted upon a powerful bay horse. The sergeant had shown