Colonel Hertford made no attempt to check them as they rode across the fields, yet green here, despite the summer's heat. "They're bravest when they sing," he said to Colonel Winchester. "It encourages them," said Colonel Winchester, "and I like to hear it myself. It's a wonderful effect, a thousand or more strong lads singing, as they sweep over the valley toward battle." Dick, Pennington and Warner had joined in the song, but the youth some distance ahead of them was leader. They finished "Gentle Maid" and then, with the same lad leading them, swung into a song that made Dick start and that for a moment made other mountains and another valley stand out before him, sharp and clear. "Soft o'er the fountain, ling'ring falls the Southern moon Far o'er the mountain, breaks the day too soon. In thy dark eyes' splendor, where the warm light loves to dwell, Weary looks, yet tender, speak their fond farewell. Nita! Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part, Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart. "When in thy dreaming moons like these shall shine again, And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by! Nita! Juanita! Let me linger by thy side. Nita! Juanita! Be my own fair bride." They put tremendous heart and energy into the haunting old song as they sang, and Dick still saw Sam Jarvis, the singer of the hills, and his valley, where the paths of Harry Kenton and himself had crossed, though at times far apart. "Now!" shouted the young leader, "The last verse again!" and with increased heart and energy they thundered out: "When in thy dreaming moons like these shall shine again, And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by! Nita! Juanita! Let me linger by thy side. Nita! Juanita! Be my own fair bride." The mighty chorus sank away and the hills gave it back in echoes until the last one died. "It's sung mostly in the South," said Dick to Warner and Pennington. "True," said Warner, "but before the war songs were not confined to one section. They were the common property of both. We've as much right to sing Juanita as the Johnnies have." All that day they rode and sang, going north toward Halltown, where the forces of Sheridan were gathering, and the valley, although lone and desolate, continually unfolded its beauty before them. The mountains were green near by and blue in the distance, and the fertile floor that they enclosed, like walls, was cut by many streams. Here, indeed, was a region that had bloomed before the war, and that would bloom again, no matter what war might do.