He knew, too, that he was young, and that pessimism and gloom could not abide long with him.
He and Warner and Pennington had good horses, in place of those that they had lost at Cedar Run, and often they rode to the front to see what might be seen of the enemy, which at present was nothing.

Their battlefield at Cedar Run had been reoccupied by Northern troops and Pope was now confirmed in his belief that his men had won a victory there.
And this victory was to be merely a prelude to another and far greater one.
As they rode here and there in search of the enemy, Dick came upon familiar ground.

Once more he saw the field of Manassas which had been lost so hardly the year before.

He remembered every hill and brook and curve of the little river, because they had been etched into his brain with steel and fire.

How could anyone forget that day?
"Looks as if we might fight our battle of last year over again, but on a much bigger scale," he said to Warner.
"Here or hereabouts," said the Vermonter, "and I think we ought to win.
They've got the better generals, but we've got more men.