They called to the man, a typical Virginia farmer in his shirt sleeves, tall and spare, short whiskers growing under his chin. There was not much difference between him and his brother farmer in New England. “Good-day,” said Warner. “Good-day.” “You seem to be working hard.” “I've need to do it. Farm hands are scarce these days.” “Farming is hard work.” “Yes; but it's a lot safer than some other kinds men are doin' nowadays.” “True, no doubt, but have you seen anything of the army?” “What army?” “The one under Lee and Jackson, the rebel army.” “I ain't heard of no rebel army, mister. I don't know of any such people as rebels.” “You call it the Confederate army. Can you tell us anything about the Confederate army?” “What Confederate army, mister? I heard last month when I went in to the court house that there was more than one of them.” “I mean the one under Lee and Jackson.” “That's cur'us. A man come ridin' 'long here three or four weeks ago. Mebbe he was a lightnin' rod agent an' mebbe he had patent medicines to sell, he didn't say, but he did tell me that General Jackson was in one place an General Lee was in another. Now which army do you mean?” “That was nearly a month ago. They are together now.” “Then, mister, if you know so much more about it than I do, what are you askin' me questions for?” “But I want to know about Lee and Jackson. Have you seen them?” “Lord bless you, mister, them big generals don't come visitin' the likes o' me. You kin see my house over thar among the trees. You kin search it if you want to, but you won't find nothin'.” “I don't want to search your house. You can't hide a great army in a house. I want to know if you've seen the Southern Army. I want to know if you've heard anything about it.” “I ain't seed it. My sight's none too good, mister. Sometimes the blazin' sun gits in my eyes and kinder blinds me for a long time. Then, too, I'm bad of hearin'; but I'm a powerful good sleeper. When I sleep I don't hear nothin', of course, an' nothin' wakes me up. I just sleep on, sometimes dreamin' beautiful dreams. A million men wouldn't wake me, an' mebbe a dozen armies or so have passed in the night while I was sleepin' so good. I'd tell you anything I know, but them that knows nothin' has nothin' to tell.” Warner's temper, although he had always practiced self-control, had begun to rise, but he checked it, seeing that it would be a mere foolish display of weakness in the face of the blank wall that confronted him. “My friend,” he said with gravity, “I judge from the extreme ignorance you display concerning great affairs that you sleep a large part of the time.” “Mebbe so, an' mebbe not. I most gen'ally sleep when I'm sleepy. I've heard tell there was a big war goin' on in these parts, but this is my land, an' I'm goin' to stay on it.” “A good farmer, if not a good patriot. Good day.” “Good day.” They rode on and, in spite of themselves, laughed.