So did the men who were gathering firewood.

One, a small, weazened fellow, gave him an envious look.
"Wish I was going riding with you," he said.

"It's fine in the woods now." Dick laughed through sheer exuberance of spirits.
"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," he said.

"Perhaps the forest is filled with rebel sharpshooters." "If you ride toward Jackson you're likely to strike Confederate bands." "I didn't say where I'm going, but you may be certain I'll keep a watch for those bands wherever I may be." The little man was uncommonly strong nevertheless, as he carried on his shoulder a heavy log which he threw down by one of the fires, but Dick, absorbed in his journey, forgot the desire of the soldier to be riding through the forest too.
He soon left the camp behind.

He looked back at it only once, and beheld the luminous glow of the campfires.