"That's what it says, sure enough. Maybe you don't know that rail was hot." The tract was passed around. One read aloud, "He hath taken charge and command. He hath established His law."
Gard sat motionless on his horse, looking placidly over their heads to the pale-blue horizon.
"Who is the one greatest in authority here?"
"This side of God Almighty and Winchester. I reckon you mean the old man. Hi, lieutenant!" The cantering officer pulled up. "He wants the general."
"Does, does he? What for?"
A pause. Gard dropped his eyes to the officer who was reading the tract.
"It is said to be best that I should have his permission to—"
"Oh, I see. Come along, then."
They rode beside the track through strata of heat and smoke from the fires, Gard following. It occurred to him that he had given his name on an impulse the day before as Moselle, and would possibly need it now. They came to a group of horsemen, talking, except one in front of them, who watched the toiling squads silently. He wore a full black beard, and sat his horse awkwardly.