The password that night was "Manassas," and Harry exchanged it with the pickets who curved in a great circle through the lone, cold forest.

They were always glad to see him.

They were alone, save when two of them met at the common end of a beat, and these youths of the South were friendly, liking to talk and to hear the news of others.
Toward the Northern segment of the circle he came to a young giant from the hills who was walking back and forth with the utmost vigor and shaking himself as if he would throw off the cold.

His brown face brightened with pleasure when he saw Harry and exchanged the password.
"Two or three other officers have been by here ridin' hosses," he said in the voice of an equal speaking to his equal, "an' they don't fill me plum' full o' envy a-tall, a-tall.

I guess a feller tonight kin keep warmer walkin' on the ground than ridin' on a hoss.