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in his head: 160,000 men or more.
    Going up an even steeper hill now, leaving the farmland behind. Aside from Louis, whose life on the road had accustomed him to walking great distances with a heavy pack on his back, most of the men were breathing hard. That was especially true of Bull Belaney, whose breath was coming in gasps that Louis could hear even though the suspected bounty jumper was a good hundred feet ahead of him. Bull had been placed in the first line of march by Sergeant Flynn.
    â€œNo straggling, skulking, or skedaddling for you, boy,” Flynn had said when he caught Belaney trying to position himself at the back of the company.
    Kirk caught his heel on a rock and almost stumbled. Louis reached out a hand to steady him without breaking stride.
    â€œThank ye!” Joker wheezed. “I take back what I said this morning. In this heat I’d be glad for a bit of rain.”
    One man farther over, Merry’s round childish face was as red as a beet, but he was laboring on. The weight of packs, muskets, bayonets, and cartridge boxes filled with forty rounds of ammunition was over thirty pounds. Some of their company had started off with even more weight than that. Prized personal possessions had been stuffed into their packs along with blanket rolls, three days of rations, and full canteens. After the first five miles, the sun beating down upon them, the new recruits had started to jettison that extra weight. All sorts of things, from spare clothing, knives, and compasses to books lay on the hillside.
    Something clanked under his foot. Louis looked down. It was a rounded plate of the sort some soldiers brought with them in the hopes that it might stop a minié ball.
    Probably the same one that I saw Wilson tying over his belly this morning , Louis thought, kicking the abandoned piece of armor to the side. Won’t lay here long.
    Sutlers were close behind them. They hovered like the turkey buzzards, fellow scavengers following the army. Hated for their presence and missed in their absence, the sutlers offered such high-priced necessities as tinned meat, whiskey, tobacco, newspapers, shoelaces, candy, and playing cards. Always ready to make a quick profit, they’d swoop in to pick up any cast-off items and add them to the goods they’d sell.
    Louis shifted his pack to swat at the air. His own load was five pounds heavier than most since he was carrying half of a shelter tent. He hardly noticed the weight, but couldn’t ignore the gnats that formed a cloud around his face whenever he stopped walking for more than a heartbeat.
    Downhill again, still not even the hint of a breeze. Hot as Hades, though it was only early May. Up north there might still be snow. But here roses as red as blood were in bloom by the roadsides.
    Being so far south, we are closer to the land where summer lives.
    There was a river ahead to cross. The name Louis had heard someone mention was something like the Rapid One. Most likely they’d just pitch their tents in the woods on the other side, set up camp, and go back into the endless, boring routine of bugle calls and drills.
    â€œThe Johnnies are beat,” someone said from behind him in a rueful voice. Louis didn’t look back. He recognized the voice as belonging to Happy Smith. Happy’s nickname came from always being able to see the downside of every situation.
    â€œDang it all!” Happy groused. “Them graybacks’ll give out complete afore we even get a chance to shoot off our guns.”
    A distant rumble came from ahead.
    Thunder?
    Louis listened close, trying to hear that sound again over the tromp, tromp, tromp of marching feet from his company and the hundreds of other men in front of them and behind.
    Ten paces ahead, Devlin coughed to clear his throat, took a deep breath, and began to sing the words that had finally come to him.
    â€œWe’ve never swerved from our green old flag,
Upborne o’er many a bloody plain;