Ambrose avoided his eyes but got busy. Charles heard plenty of grumbling. The joy in the morning was gone; he'd been stupid to believe in it anyway.

Discouraged, he wondered how his men could survive in a real battle if they considered a skirmish somewhat less serious than a fox hunt. How could they win if they refused to learn to fight as a unit — which first of all meant learning to obey?

His long-time friend from his West Point days, Billy Hazard, of the federal engineers, knew the importance of taking war seriously. Cousin Orry Main and his closest friend, Billy's older brother George, knew it, too. All Academy men did. Maybe that explained the gulf between the professional officers of the old regular army and the amateur hotspurs. Even Wade Hampton sometimes mocked men from the Point —

"No worse than bees buzzing, was it?" Charles overheard a trooper say while Ambrose re-formed the troop by twos on the road.

Charles withheld comment and rode to the soiled, cringing prisoner. "You'll have to walk a long way back with us. But you won't be harmed. Understand?"

"Ja, versteh' — onderstand." The Dutchman pronounced the English word with difficulty.

The troopers considered all Yankees mere mudsills or mechanics; unworthy opponents. Studying the poor tun-bellied captive, Charles could understand the viewpoint. Trouble was, there were hundreds of thousands more mudsills and mechanics in the North than in the South. The Carolina boys never considered that.

The North reminded him of his friend Billy. Where was he? Would Charles ever lay eyes on him again? The Hazard and Main families had grown close in the years before the war; would they ever be close again, even with Cousin Brett now married to Billy?

Too many questions. Too many problems. And as the double column headed south again, the sun was all at once too cool for summertime. A half mile from the site of the skirmish, Charles heard and felt Dasher cough. Saw her nostrils excessively damp when she turned her head.