“If Colonel Hertford is near where we reckon he is we ought to meet him by nightfall,” said Sergeant Whitley.
“We're sure to reach him before then,” said Dick joyously.
“Colonel Hertford is a mighty good man, and if he says he's going to be at a certain place at a certain time I reckon he'll be there, Mr. Mason.”
“And then we'll bring him back and join General Grant. What do you think of our General, Sergeant?”
Dick spoke with all the freedom then so prevalent in the American armies, where officer and man were often on nearly a common footing, and the sergeant replied with equal freedom.
“General Grant hits and hammers, and I guess that's what war is,” he said. “On the plains we had a colonel who didn't know much about tactics. He said the only way to put down hostile Indians was to find 'em, and beat 'em, and I guess that plan will work in any war, big or little.”
“I heard before I left the army that Washington was getting scared, afraid that he was taking too big a risk here in the heart of the Confederacy, and that his operations might be checked by orders from the capital.”
Sergeant Whitley smiled a wise smile.
“We sergeants learn to know the officers,” he said, “and I've had the chance to look at General Grant a lot. He doesn't say much, but I guess he's doing a powerful lot of thinking, while he's chawing on the end of his cigar. You notice, Mr. Mason, that he takes risks.”
“He took a big one at Shiloh, and came mighty near being nipped.”