He saw Colonel Winchester and another man, a stranger, who held a small leather case in his hand. But Dick was in such a dull and apathetic state that he had no curiosity about them and he shut his eyes to keep out the light of the lantern.
“What is it, doctor?” he heard Colonel Winchester asking.
“Chill and a little fever, brought on by exposure and exhaustion. But he’s a hardy youth. Look what a chest and shoulders! With the aid of these little white pills of mine he’ll be all right in the morning. Colonel, Napoleon said that an army fights on its stomach, which I suppose is true, but in our heavily watered and but partly settled country, it must fight sometimes on a stomach charged with quinine.”
“I was afraid it might be worse. A dose or two then will bring him around?”
“Wish I could be so sure of a quick cure in every case. Here, my lad, take two of these. A big start is often a good one.”
Dick raised his head obediently and took the two quinine pills. Soon he sank into a condition which was as near stupor as sleep. But before he passed into unconsciousness he heard the doctor say:
“Wake him soon enough in the morning, Colonel, to take two more. What a wonderful thing for our armies that we can get all the quinine we want! The rebel supply, I know, is exhausted. With General Quinine on our side we’re bound to win.”
“But that isn’t the only reason, doctor. Now-” Their voices trailed away as Dick sank into oblivion. He had a dim memory of being awakened the next morning and of swallowing two more pills, but in a minute or two he sank back into a sleep which was neither feverish nor troubled. When he awoke the dark had come a second time. The fever was wholly gone, and his head had ceased to ache.
Dick felt weak, but angry at himself for having broken down at such a time, he sat up and began to put on the dry uniform that lay in the tent. Then he was astonished to find how great his weakness really was, but he persevered, and as he slipped on the tunic Warner came into the tent.
“You’ve been asleep a long time,” he said, looking at Dick critically.
“I know it. I suppose I slept all through the night as well as the day.”
“And the great battle was fought without you.”
Dick started, and looked at his comrade, but Warner’s eyes were twinkling.
“There’s been no battle, and you know it,” Dick said.
“No, there hasn’t been any; there won’t be any for several days at least. That whopping big rain last night did us a service after all. It was Early who crossed the river, and now he is in a way cut off from the rest of the Southern army. We hear that he’ll go back to the other side. But Stuart has curved about us, raided our supply train and destroyed it. And he’s done more than that. He’s captured General Pope’s important papers.”
“What does it mean for us?”
“A delay, but I don’t know anything more. I suppose that whatever is going to happen will happen in its own good time. You feel like a man again, don’t you Dick? And you can have the consolation of knowing that nothing has happened all day long when you slept.”
Dick finished his dressing, rejoined his regiment and ate supper with the other officers around a fine camp fire. He found that he had a good appetite, and as he ate strength flowed rapidly back into his veins. He gathered from the talk of the older officers that they were still hoping for a junction with McClellan before Lee and Jackson could attack. They expected at the very least to have one hundred and fifty thousand men in line, most of them veterans.
But Dick saw Shepard again that evening. He had come from a long journey and he reported great activity in the Southern camp. When Dick said that Lee and Jackson would have to fight both Pope and McClellan the spy merely replied: