and in which once upon a time Stonewall Jackson thumped us so often."

"It's a branch of it," said Pennington, "but Stonewall Jackson is gone,
God rest his soul--I say that from the heart, even if he was against us--
and I've an idea that instead of getting thumped we're going to do the
thumping. There's something about this man Sheridan that appeals to me.
We've seen him in action with artillery, but now he's a cavalry
commander. They say he rides fast and far and strikes hard. People are
beginning to talk about Little Phil. Well, I approve of Little Phil."

"He'll be glad to hear of it," said Dick. "It will brace him up a lot."

"He may be lucky to get it," replied Pennington calmly. "There are many
generals in this war, and two or three of them have been commander-in-
chief, of whom I don't approve at all. I think you'll find, too, that
history will have a habit of agreeing with me."

"But don't make predictions," said Dick. "There have been no genuine,
dyed-in-the-wool prophets since those ancient Hebrews were gathered to
their fathers, and that was a mighty long time ago."

"There you're wrong, Dick," said Warner, earnestly. "It's all a matter
of mathematics, the scientific application of a romantic and imaginative
science to facts. Get all your premises right, arrange them correctly,
and the result follows as a matter of course."

The trumpet sounded boots and saddles, and cut him short. In a few more
minutes they were all up and away, riding over the hills and across the
dips toward the main sweep of the famous valley which played such a great
part in the tactics and fighting of the Civil War. It had already been