"Well, well," repeated Dick, growing more and more amazed. "So do I hope he is safe at home, and if he got within a hundred miles of Springfield I reckon he is. The country is full of Federal cavalry, and how your squad came through without being molested is more than I can understand. You will find the colonel in this tent, captain," said he, dismounting and drawing some papers from his pocket. "I must report too, for I have been on an errand for him. I'll be out in a minute, Rodney." Dick followed, the captain into the colonel's tent, and Rodney sat on his horse and looked around while he awaited his return. He thought of what the captain had said regarding the Continentals at Valley Forge, but did not see that there could be any comparison drawn between the two armies. Price's men seemed to be well clothed, provisions were plenty, and as for their arms, they had an abundance of them such as they were, and a charging enemy would find their double-barrel shotguns bad things to face at close quarters. But a few months later the comparison was a good one. During the "little Moscow retreat," after the battle of Pea Ridge (which Van Dorn's ambition led him to fight contrary to orders), along a route where there were neither roads nor bridges, through a region from which the inhabitants had all fled, leaving the country "so poor that a turkey buzzard would not fly over it," with no train of wagons, or provisions to put in them if there had been, and no tents to shelter them from the cold, biting winds and sleet and snow--when Rodney Gray found himself and companions in this situation he thought of the Continentals, and wondered at the patriotism that kept them in the ranks. But it wasn't patriotism that kept Price's men together. It was _fear_ and nothing else. But this dark picture was hidden from Rodney's view as he sat there on his horse waiting for his friend Dick Graham to come out of the colonel's tent. The martial scenes around him, the military order that everywhere prevailed, the companies and regiments drilling in the fields close by, the inspiriting music that came to his ears--these sights and sounds filled him with enthusiasm; and if any one had told him that the time would come when he would think seriously of deserting the army and turning his back upon the cause he had espoused, Rodney Gray would have been thunder struck. But the time came. CHAPTER XV. A FULL-FLEDGED PARTISAN. Having transacted his business with the colonel, Dick Graham came out of the tent and mounted his horse. "Of course I had to wait until the captain had made his report," said he, in a suppressed whisper, "and in that way I happened to hear a little about yourself and Tom Barton. I knew enough to keep still in the presence of my superiors, but I did want to ask the captain to say more about Tom Barton. Was it Percival?" Rodney winked first one eye and then the other and Dick was answered.