The boys were soaked, and chilled, and _blue_, and dreadfully homesick.

Words would not tell what these poor fellows would have given if they could have been where they could have been coddled and petted by their mothers and sisters.
I saw that a warm cup of coffee and a substantial breakfast would do them good, and I hastened to have it provided.

They came with alacrity at the call for breakfast, for they were hungry.

When a good square meal had somewhat thawed them out, I said, "Boys, what made you quit swearing last night ?" The one who was usually their spokesman, and who knew how to be a gentleman if he had a mind to be, said reverently, "We were afraid." From this time forward our debates over slavery and the Southern Confederacy were at an end, or if we had them it was in a friendly way.

Given a fair chance, these boys were not so bad as they seemed.
In the summer of 1864 we had reached the "Cutoff," and were within eighty miles of Denver.