He was swelled with a tale he had heard from a reliable friend, who had heard it from a truthful cavalryman, who had heard it from his trustworthy brother, one of the orderlies at division headquarters.

He adopted the important air of a herald in red and gold.
"We're goin' t' move t'morrah--sure," he said pompously to a group in the company street.

"We're goin' 'way up the river, cut across, an' come around in behint 'em." To his attentive audience he drew a loud and elaborate plan of a very brilliant campaign.

When he had finished, the blue-clothed men scattered into small arguing groups between the rows of squat brown huts.

A negro teamster who had been dancing upon a cracker box with the hilarious encouragement of twoscore soldiers was deserted.