But from the first day to the last he had no thought of yielding; and each feeble step had sent him a step farther upon the road. He had often fallen, but he had always struggled up again and laughed. Once he made a ghastly joke about his dying in the snow, and Jack Powell turned upon him with an oath and bade him to be silent.
“For God's sake don't,” added the boy weakly, and fell to whimpering like a child.
“Oh, go home to your mother,” retorted Dan, with a kind of desperate cruelty.
“I wish I could,” he answered, and dropped over upon the roadside.
Dan caught him up, and poured his last spoonful of brandy down his throat, then he seized his arm and dragged him bodily along.
“Oh, I say don't be an ass,” he implored. “Here comes old Stonewall.”
The commanding General rode by, glanced quietly over them, and passed on, his chest bowed, his cadet cap pulled down over his eyes. A moment later Dan, looking over the hillside, at the winding road, saw him dismount and put his shoulder to a sunken wheel. The sight suddenly nerved the younger man, and he went on quickly, dragging Jack up with him.
That night they rested in a burned-out clearing where the pine trees had been felled for fence rails. The rails went readily to fires, and Pinetop fried strips of fat bacon in the skillet he had brought upon his musket. Somebody produced a handful of coffee from his pocket, and a little later Dan, dozing beside the flames, was awakened by the aroma.
“By George!” he burst out, and sat up speechless.
Pinetop was mixing thin cornmeal paste into the gravy, and he looked up as he stirred busily with a small stick.
“Wall, I reckon these here slapjacks air about done,” he remarked in a moment, adding with a glance at Dan, “and if your stomach's near as empty as your eyes, I reckon your turn comes first.”
“I reckon it does,” said Dan, and filling his tin cup, he drank scalding coffee in short gulps. When he had finished it, he piled fresh rails upon the fire and lay down to sleep with his feet against the embers.
With the earliest dawn a long shiver woke him, and as he put out his hand it touched something wet and cold. The fire had died to a red heart, and a thick blanket of snow covered him from head to foot. Straight above there was a pale yellow light where the stars shone dimly after the storm.