“About a day.”
“When do the Bucktails go?”
“At nine to-night.”
“Who knows it?”
“Who doesn’t? I can’t move a regiment and its baggage in a day, can I? I’ve given them twenty-four hours to break camp and entrain.”
“Does the train master know which troops are going?”
“He has orders to hold three trains, steam up, night and day.”
“I see,” she murmured, strapping her soft riding hat more securely to her hair with the elastic band. Her eyes had been wandering restlessly around the tent as though searching for something which she could not find.
“Have you a good map of the district?” she asked.
He went to his military chest, opened it, and produced a map. For a while, both hands on the table, she leaned above the map studying the environment.