Colonel Winchester passing smiled sympathetically, but his
glance lingered longest on Dick.
After days on the water the regiment disembarked, marched more days
across the country, joining other regiments on the way, and reached the
rear guard of the army of Rosecrans, which was already marching southward
in the direction of Chattanooga to meet that of Bragg. They advanced
now over the Cumberland mountains through a country wild and thinly
inhabited. The summer was waning, but it was cool on the mountains and
in the passes, nor was it so dry as the year before, when they fought
that terrible battle at Perryville in Kentucky.
Dick was glad to be again in the high country, the land of firm soil and
of many clear, rushing streams. Heart and lungs expanded, when he looked
upon the long ridges, clothed in deep forest, and breathed the pure air
that blew down from their summits. Yet his dream of peace was over.
As they advanced through the forests and passes they were harassed
incessantly by sharpshooters on the slopes, who melted away before them,
but who returned on the very heels of the vain pursuit to vex them again
with bullets.
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