The fisherman fished, but caught nothing. “I expect,” he said, “that there is good fishing in the Etowah. Looked so the day we crossed it.” “That was a hard crossing,” said Désirée. “Hard enough!” answered the fisherman. “But Old Joe got us across. I am not one of the grumblers.” “There wasn’t much grumbling.” “That’s so! Army of Tennessee’s a right fine body of men.” He cast again. “It’s quieter than Sleepy Hollow this morning! There was a considerable rumpus yesterday. They say, too, that General Wheeler got in on their rear and beat a brigade and captured two hundred and fifty wagons. I reckon we’ll hear raindrops on the roof before night!” “I shouldn’t be surprised.” “These pesky little battles,” said the fisherman. “I’ve stopped counting them—Thought I had a bite!” “Many a little makes a mickle.” “That’s true! We’ve been fighting for a month, and we’re walking round to-day like a game-cock looking at his spurs. Army of Tennessee and Joseph E. Johnston.” He bent his eyes upon his pole. The wind sung in the pine tree, _clink! clink!_ went the forge downstream. The pearly cloud castle rose higher. Off on the left, where was Hardee’s corps, a bugle trilled as sweetly as a bird. There were a million forest odours, with the pine, played upon by the sunshine, for dominant. The dry pure air was life-giving. “I gather,” said the fisherman, “that there are, on our side, two theories as to the conduct of this war. The one wants great crashing battles that shall force the foe to cry, ‘Hold, enough!’—‘Fight him on sight, and without regard to odds.’ The other says, ‘We haven’t got many men, and when they’re gone, we have no more. There’s only one set of chessmen in this establishment. So spare your men. We’ve got a Goliath to fight. Well, don’t rush at him!—Fence with him; maybe you’ll prove the better fencer. Don’t strike just to be striking; strike when you see an advantage to follow! You can’t thrash him outright; he’s too big. But you may _wear_ him out. Giants sometimes lack a giant patience. This one has a considerable clamour for peace behind him at home. Save your men, strike only when there’s sense in striking, and take Time into your councils! You may not win this way, but you certainly won’t the other way.’ The first’s the Administration and a considerable part of the press, and the last’s Joseph E. Johnston.” “‘There was a general named Fabius,’” said Edward.—“You’re a good observer.” “I’m a better observer than I am a fisherman,” said the disciple of Walton. Désirée stepped down the bank into the square of gold and gathered up her washing. With it over one arm she returned and gave her hands to Edward. They said good-day to the fisherman, and went away, up the slight hill, Edward doing well with his stick and an arm over her shoulder. They laughed like children in the sunshine.