What a lot of hawk-nosed, hatchet-faced, turkey-necked cow milkers!--all heroes, too, Steve.

You can tell that because they're in uniform and carry guns." Stephen watched the lank troops, fascinated by the long, silent, almost gliding stride of officers and men loaded down with knapsack, blanket, and canteen, their caps pushed high on their red and sweating foreheads.

There was a halt; big hands, big red knuckles, big feet, and the delicate curve of the hawk's beak outlining every Yankee nose, queer, humourous, restless glances sweeping Gotham streets and windows where Gotham crowded to gaze back at the halted youngsters in blue; then a far tenor cry, nasal commands, thin voices penetrating from out of the crowded distance; a sudden steadying of ranks; the level flash of shouldered steel; a thousand men marking time; and at last the drums' quick outbreak; and the 1st Vermont Infantry passed onward into the unknown.
"I'd rather like to go there--to see what there is there," observed Berkley.
"Where ?" "Where they're going--wherever that may be--and I think I know." He glanced absently at his letter again.
"I've sold some stock--all I had, and I've made a lot of money," he said listlessly.
Stephen dropped an impulsive hand on his shoulder.
"I'm terribly glad, Berkley! I'm delighted!" he said with a warmth that brought a slight colour into Berkley's face.
"That's nice of you, Stephen.

It solves the immediate problem of how to go there." "Go where ?" "Why--where all our bright young men are going, old fellow," said Berkley, laughing.

"I can go with a regiment or I can go alone.
But I really must be starting." "You mean to enlist ?" "Yes, it can be done that way, too.