“How's Old Jack looking?”
“Same as ever.”
“That is, like a human sphinx. Well, you can never tell from his face what he's thinking, but you can be sure that he's thinking something worth while.”
“You think then I can report to him that the pursuit will not catch up to-day?”
“I'm sure of it. I've talked with Ashby also about it and he says they're yet too far back. Harry, what day is this?”
Harry smiled at the sudden question, but he understood how Sherburne, amid almost continuous battle, had lost sight of time.
“I heard someone say it was the first of June,” he replied.
“No later than that? Why, it seemed to me that it must be nearly autumn. Do you know, Harry, that on this very day, two years ago, I was up there in those mountains to the west with a jolly camping party. I was just a boy then, and now here I am an old man.”
“About twenty-three, I should say.”
“A good guess, but anyway I've been through enough to make me feel sixty. I promise you, Harry, that if ever I get through this war alive I'll shoot the man who tries to start another. Look at the fields! How fine and green they are! Think of all that good land being torn up by the hoofs of cavalry and the wheels of cannon!”