"
"An' you see him an' hear him talk every day? Some people are pow'ful
lucky. I guess you'll say a lot about it when you're old men."
"We're going to say a lot about it while we're young men. Good-by,
Mr. Jones. We've been in some good hotels, but we never slept better
in any of them than we have in this moving one of yours."
"Good-by, you're always welcome to it. I think Marse Bob is on ahead."
The two left the wagon and took to a path beside the road, which was
muddy and rutted deeply by innumerable hoofs and wheels. But grass and
foliage were now dry after the heavy rains that followed the Battle of
Gettysburg, and the sun was shining in late splendor. The army, taking
the lack of pursuit and attack as proof that the enemy had suffered as
much as they, if not more, was in good spirits, and many of the men sang
their marching songs. A band ahead of them suddenly began to play mellow
music, "Partant Pour La Syrie," and other old French songs. The airs
became gay, festive, uplifting to the soul, and they tickled the feet of
the young men.
"The Cajun band!" exclaimed Harry. "It never occurred to me that they
weren't all dead, and here they are, playing us into happiness!"
"And the Invincibles, or what's left of them, won't be far away," said
Dalton.
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