“They run a great risk when they attack us in this manner.”
“Maybe, sir,” said Dick, “they, too, were coming for the water.”
Colonel Winchester looked at Sergeant Whitley.
“I'm of the opinion, sir,” said the sergeant, “that Mr. Mason is right.”
“I think so, too,” said Colonel Winchester. “It's a pity that men should kill each other over a drink of water when there's enough for all. Has any man a handkerchief?”
“Here, sir,” said Warner; “it's ragged and not very clean, but I hope it will do.”
The Colonel raised the handkerchief on the point of his sword and gave a hail. The bulk of the two armies had passed on, and now there was silence in the woods as the two little forces confronted each other across the stream.
Dick saw a tall form in Confederate gray rise up from the bushes on the other side of the brook.
“Are you wanting to surrender?” the man called in a long, soft drawl.
“Not by any means. We want a drink of water, and we're just bound to have it.”