“They're too darned willing,” said Happy Tom. “That's the trouble.”
“I woke up just about the dawn,” said Dalton. “Everybody was asleep, but the general, and I saw him praying.”
“Then it means fighting and lots of it,” said St. Clair. “I'm going to make the best use I can of this little bit of rest, as I don't expect another chance for at least a month. Stonewall Jackson thinks that one hour a day for play keeps Jack from being a dull boy.”
“Just look at our colonels, will you?” said Happy Tom. “They're believers in what Arthur says.”
Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire were sitting in a corner of a rail fence opposite each other, and their bent gray heads nearly touched. But their eyes were on a small board between them and now and then they moved carved figures back and forth.
“They're playing chess,” whispered Happy Tom. “They found the board and set of men in the captured baggage, and this is their first chance to use them.”
“They can't possibly finish a game,” said Harry.
“No,” said Tom, “they can't, and it's just as well. Why anybody wants to play chess is more than I can understand. I'd rather watch a four-mile race between two turtles. It's a lot swifter and more thrilling.”
“It takes intelligence to play chess, Happy,” said St. Clair.
“And time, too,” rejoined Happy. “If a thing consumes a lifetime anyway, what's the use of intelligence?”