"HALT!""HALT!"
In another instant asoldier in a blue uniformappeared, pointing his gun at me, as he said "Stand there!" Then calling to a comrade, who had evidently been asleep, as he did not immediately answer, I recovered my voice sufficiently to say to the soldier in the blue blouse:
"You scared me half to death, until I saw your uniform."
He replied to my observation:
"Yes; where did you come from?"
I had not yet seen his face distinctly, but his voice and dialect at once aroused my doubts, and again put me on my guard, and I said:
"I'll tell you all about it when your officer comes," and I braced for a run.
In another moment the rattling of a saber was heard, coming from the direction of the woods, and, peering through the darkness into the grove, I was able to distinguish the outlines of a house.
When the officer with his rattling scabbard got up to us I was almost paralyzed to see him dressed in the grey uniform of a Confederate cavalry officer. Addressing me courteously, he said:
"What in the name of all that's good brings you out on this road on such a dark night, disturbing our sleep?"
He laughed, as if he thought it a good joke on himself; it was only a trifling little laugh, but it gave me some encouragement.
"Why, I have been hunting the house where a sick friend of mine was left after the battle, and, being unable to find him, I went to sleep in a barn, but I couldn't stand that sort of a rest, so I got out and started back home, and IguessI'm lost."
"Iguessyou are."
The use of this word nearly gave me away.
"What regiment was your friend in?"
"I don't know for sure, but think it's a Maryland company. I knew him in Texas, but we were both from Maryland, and maybe he went with some Texas acquaintances."
"Well, my friend, this is rather a singular place and time to be found hunting a sick friend."
"Yes, I know; but, as I tell you, I am lost in the darkness, and must have taken the wrong road when I left the barn. I will show you my passes."
"Oh, you have passes, have you? Come into the house and we will make a light; we can't make a light out here because we are right on the line."
As we turned to leave, the sentry or guard who had halted me whispered or spoke in a low tone to the officer. I suspected that he was telling him that I had expressed my relief at seeing his blue uniform. The officer merely nodded assent, as he invited me to walk alongside of him into the house.
I took occasion to say to him that when I saw the blue coat I was sure that I had been caught by a Yankee soldier, and expressed my great pleasure at having met such courteous Southern gentlemen.
"Well, you came very near going into the Yankees' hands; whytheir cavalry come out here every day, and were away inside of this point to-day, but they generally go back at night, and we come out to spend the night on the road."
Then stopping in his walk he turned and, after peering through the trees, he pointed to a couple of dimly flickering lights and said: "Those lights are in Georgetown College."
Great God! I was so near and yet so far; and as I looked at the lights I was almost overcome with emotion to think that I had so nearly succeeded and was now a prisoner in the sight of home and friends; that I had, in fact, passed the last picket and had been halted from the rear, but realizing that I must, under the trying circumstances, keep a stiff upper lip, I might yet get free.
My surprise at hearing the lights pointed out as Georgetown College was so great that I must have expressed in some way my feelings, as the officer looked at me quizzically. I ventured to express myself in some way about being so near the Yankees, as I thought I was nearer Fairfax, in a manner which probably implied a doubt as to the lights being so close at Georgetown, when he spoke up:
"I know they are, because, you see, I was a demonstrator of anatomy and a tutor at that college, and we all know about it." And as a further proof of his assertion he incidentally observed: "If you are around this country in daylight you can see the Capitol from some elevated points."
In the silence and gloom that had settled down over me, like a cold, heavy, wet blanket, we walked together to the house.
Along the fence and hitched to the posts were several horses, already saddled and bridled for sudden use, while in the porch of the house were stretched in sleep the forms of two or three men in gray uniform, with their belts and spurs buckled on.
Inside the house a tallow candle was found, and by its dim light, the Confederate officer scanned my pass, and then, turning, gave me a most searching look by the light of the candle, as he said: "This pass is all right for the inside of our lines."
"Oh," said I quickly, "I don't want any pass anywhere else. I'm glad that I found you here, or I'd have gone into the Yankees' hands, sure."
While talking to the sentry, when waiting for the officer to comeup to us, I had not thought it necessary to attempt to destroy or "lose" the papers in my old hat, as I supposed him to be the Union picket; and, since the officer had joined us, there had been no opportunity to do anything with him, without exciting suspicion, which was the one thing to be avoided at that time.
When we went into the house I had, of course, taken off my hat, and as I sat there under the scrutiny of that fellow's black eyes and sharp cross-examination, I held my hat in my hand, and everytime my fingers would touch or feel the presence of the paper in the hat I was conscious of a little flush of guilt and apprehension, which happily the tallow candle did not expose.
The officer, at my request, hospitably accepted the suggestion that I be permitted to stay there under their protection until daylight, when I could return to "our army," supplementing the arrangement by the kind observation:
"We will see you back safely."
Then rousing one of the sleeping soldiers, whom he called aside and gave some private directions as to my care and keeping, he courteously told me to make myself comfortable, and apologized for the accommodations.
I was a prisoner, and I knew full well that to be escorted back through the Rebel armies with this officer's report that I had been "found at their outposts going in the direction of the enemy," would excite a suspicion that would be sure to set on foot a closer examination, and this would result in my certain detection; because the first thing they would do would be to show my forged endorsement from General Beauregard's Chief-of-Staff for his further endorsement; and I could not, of course, stand an examination into my immediate antecedents, nor explain my statements, and this would also discover my operations in the telegraph office.
As I lay down alongside of the armed Rebel trooper for a rest, I resolved that, come what might, I should not go back a prisoner—that it would be preferable to be shot trying to escape rather than to be hanged as a spy.
As I lay me down to sleep on the front porch of the little old house, close beside an armed Rebel soldier, and not very distant from two other aroused troopers, I realized in a manner that I can not describe that I was not only a prisoner, but that I was most likely suspected of being a spy who had been captured in the very act of escaping from their own into their enemy's lines. I felt all the worse from the reflection that my unfortunate predicament resulted solely from a want of caution or discretion; that had I been content to suffer more patiently the delays and annoyances which were necessarily to be encountered while tramping in the darkness through the fields and briar bushes in avoiding the highways, I might have passed the danger line a moment later, to have reached our own lines safely enough a little later in the night. I had actually passed all the Rebel pickets, both of infantry and cavalry. I learned from the talk of the men into whose hands I had run myself, that they were merely a detached scouting party, who were at that particular point at night, as I surmised, to receive communications from their friends who were inside our lines during the daytime.
This arrangement was for the accommodation and convenience oftheirspies in our army—enabling them to come out to this rendezvous under cover of the night to deliver their mail or supply information.
I gathered these facts from the big fellow who had me in charge, who, it was courteously observed by the officer, "would make me as comfortable as possible," after the manner of a jailor the night before a hanging.
The outpost was not only a branch postoffice for the Rebel couriers, but there was a previously-arranged system of signals with some one at the college, by which any important advances or other movement of our forces could have been quickly announced, and that would have been well understood by the party stationed there to observe this.
As I have said, I fully determined in my own mind not to go back to the Rebel headquarters as a suspected spy. The forged endorsement, or request for a pass, which I had voluntarily relinquished to the Rebel officer, while it seemed to allay any suspicions that might have been aroused in his mind, had the opposite effect with me.
It was the one little piece of paper out of my hands that was sure to be closely scrutinized by the officers. It would supply documentary evidence not only of my guilt as a spy, but of forging a Rebel General's endorsement.
I had not yet seen any chance to make away with the other dreadful death warrant, in the form of the stolen telegram that was concealed under the lining of my hat.
While passing into the house from the road I might have thrown my hat down, but I knew they would hunt it up for me, and, in handling it, be sure to discover the concealed papers. I could not get them out of the hat, even in the dark, without attracting attention that might result in an exposure; and, besides all this, I knew full well that any pieces of white paper, if torn into ever so small fragments and scattered on the ground, would be sure to attract notice and be gathered up at daylight. I was suspected, and, as such, every action and movement was being closely scrutinized and noted. My only hope was to delay the exposure that must eventually come; that I must keep still and trust to luck for escape; or, if an opportunity offered me, while pretending to sleep, I could eat and swallow the papers.
The horses of the troopers were already bridled and saddled and hitched to the fence-post. It occurred to me, in my despair upon seeing this, that, if I could only succeed in throwing these people off their guard for a moment, I might find an opportunity to seize one of their own horses, upon which I could ride defiantly and wildly down the road into the darkness, trusting to night and the horse to carry me beyond reach of their pursuit.
These were only a few of the many thoughts that rushed through my brain that night, as I lay there on the porch, so near home and friends on one side, and so close to death and the gallows on the other. It is said that a drowning person will think of the events of a life-time in one short moment. I hadhoursof agony that night that can never, never be described.
As I lay there looking up into the sky, perhaps for the last time, I thought I'd soon have an opportunity of finding out whether there were other worlds than ours. I was, indeed, going to that bourne from which no traveler ever returns.
The clouds, which had darkened the sky a little in the early part of the evening, were now slowly rolling by. I lay as still as death for an hour perhaps, watching the movements of the clouds; and thinking of my friends at home.
I wondered what each and every one was doing at that particular time, and imagined that most of my youthful associates were having a happy evening somewhere, while I, poor fool, was lying out on a Virginia porch in this dreadful fix, without a friend to counsel or advise with, while I might just as well have been at home and happy with the rest of them. If they thought of me at all, it probably was as a prisoner still about Harper's Ferry; but I would never, perhaps, have the satisfaction of knowing that my work in the Rebel camps had been understood. While cogitating in this frame of mind the moon began to show through the breaking clouds, and, as suddenly as if a face had appeared to my vision, the Southern moon looked straight down on my face, flooding the porch for a moment with a stream of mellow light.
I was lying partly on my side at the time, my head resting on my arm for a pillow, as was my habit; my hat, which yet contained the tell-tale papers, was under my face. I was almost startled from my reverie, as if by an apparition, and, looking around hastily, I saw standing, like an equestrian statue, on the road the mounted sentry, while along side of me, but to my back, wasseatedanother fellow apparently wide-awake, who looked wonderingly at me as I raised my head so suddenly. I was closely guarded, and my heart sank within me as I again dropped my head to my favorite position on my pillowing arm.
The moon still shone clear, and as I looked with heavy, moist, downcast eye, I became suddenly thrilled through my whole being on discovering by the light of that indulgent old moon that right alongside of my hat was an open knot-hole in the floor of the porch.
I'm not a spiritualist or even a believer in the supernatural, but I must assert, upon my conviction, that some unseen influence musthave directed and placed that ray of moonlight at that particular time, for the express purpose of enabling me to safely deposit the tell-tale papers. If it had not been for the timely rift in the clouds, I would never have discovered the little opening in the floor. Another fact which confirms me in my theory of the supernatural influence is, that, immediately after I had been so strangely shown the place of concealment, the light faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and for some time afterward the surroundings became obscure in the darkness.
There may have been, but I don't think there was, another hole in that porch floor, and this one was quite insignificant.
In the darkness I could barely insert my two fingers into the opening, as Mercutio says in the play:—"No, 'tis not as deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door: but 'tis enough, 'twill serve."
I don't think a hunted rat or fox was ever more grateful for a hole than I was for this; it was my only chance to get rid of the papers unobserved, and I at once took the hint from the sky and began silently to finger them out of my hat.
Unfortunately, they were quite bulky; the official paper which had given a tabulated statement of the epidemic and absence of twenty-five per cent. of the Confederate Army, was on foolscap paper, whichwouldrattle everytime it was moved; but by turning or scraping my shoes on the boards every time I touched the papers deadened the sound, I was enabled, after a good deal of nervous twitching, to get them into a roll sufficiently small to poke down the hole. That's what I thought; but when I attempted to drop them the wad wouldn't fit; and, to add to my consternation, the guard at this point was being relieved. I lay still for awhile in a tremor of excitement lest I should be detected; it occurred to me, also, that though the moon had kindly shown me the way to get rid of my burden of proof, the sun might, also, in the hours following, expose, from the front part of the house, the presence of a roll of white paper under the porch. I had not satisfied myself that the opening at the front was closed. To prevent the roll of white paper being too conspicuous, I tore from my hat the black silk lining, and, at a favorable opportunity, I re-rolled the little paper into the black silk stuff in a smaller package, which allowed of its being deposited in the Rebel signal station, and "let her drop."It reached the ground about two feet below, and, being dark in color, was assimilated so closely with the black earth as not to attract any notice, even if there had been an opening to daylight. This package out of my mind and off my hands safely, I breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief and thankfulness, and uttered a solemn prayer: "That I'd be hanged if I ever touched another paper."
When I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around and saw daylight breaking, my heart again sank within me as I realized my position.
Through a misty, drizzling daylight in August, I saw preparations of the rebel outposts to "pack off," and was hurriedly ordered to get up behind one of the troopers whose horse would "tote double," and instead of a gallant dash down the road to our lines, followed by howling and shooting pursuers, I was being "toted," back to the Rebel Army, "on behind."
It seems very funny now to have to describe my inglorious position, as compared with the novelist's idea of a dash for liberty. I was riding lady fashion on the rear end of a rebel cavalryman's horse, holding on around his waist for dear life, like a girl at a picnic, as we trotted ingloriously back toward the headquarters of the Rebel Army. It was quite unbecoming I know, and if I had been in a camp meeting crowd I should have enjoyed the ride; just at this particular time I was obliged to be satisfied with the facilities, and pretended that it was fun. I was smart enough not to allow those people to discover, by any words or actions of mine, that I objected to going back in this way; though I would have given worlds to have had a chance to delay them, in hopes of relief coming up from the Union Army that would compel them to give me up in order to save themselves.
I WAS BEING "TOTED" BACK TO THE REBEL ARMY.I WAS BEING "TOTED" BACK TO THE REBEL ARMY.
I had two chances for my life: I could not be expected to fight the whole Rebel Army single-handed and escape unhurt; the only thing to do, was, so to conduct myself that I might throw them off their guard and quietly get away, and thus have an opportunity to try again to reach our lines. The other alternative was, that if this chance of escape did not appear, that I might so conduct myself toward my captors as to win their confidence, and have the forged pass disposed of and not be carried to Beauregard. If conducted to headquarters, I might, by cunning stories, try toimpress on the minds of those who would have my examination in charge the truth of the story that "I had become lost in the night, while searching for the house in which my sick friend was reported to have been left."
This was plausible enough, and I hoped from the general demoralization prevailing after the battle, that they might be careless, or at least indifferent, enough to let me off easy on this statement.
The forged endorsement on the pass, which had gone out of my hands, was the seriousevidenceagainst me, coupled with the fact of having been captured while trying to go to the enemy.
There was, also, of course, always before me the great danger of a discovery of my identity as the Fort Pickens Spy.
I had ample opportunity to consider all these things as we trotted along back over that portion of the road that I had tramped out in so lighthearted a manner the night previously. The soldier who "escorted" me was a jolly, good fellow, and felt disposed to make my ride as comfortable as possible, but as there were eight in the squad beside the officer in command, we had to keep up with the rest and, as our old nag was a rough trotter, it was a little bit uncomfortable at times. They seemed to be in a hurry to get away. Perhaps something may have happened while I was asleep that made it necessary for them to whoop things up a little that ugly morning.
The unpleasant jolting of the horses, and the rattling of the sabers and horses' tramping feet, prevented an easy flow of language—in fact, I could not talk at all; it required all my time and attention to keep my place on the rear of the saddle. I did not dare to drop off the horse, because the officer in charge had been careful enough to place us in front.
We reached a bridge on which was stationed a picket, who halted us; the officer rode up, dismounted, and gave the necessary countersign and ordered us forward.
I had only seen the bridge at night, and from the other side, where I had discovered a soldier with a gun walking about, when I broke for the field and flanked him. We were halted for a moment while the rebel officer of the guard, with our officer, walked a little distance to one side to consult with some others, who were in a drowsy way, lounging about a camp-fire.
I looked about to gain some idea of the topography of the country over which I had traveled in the night.
Several officers approached us, accompanied by our commander. I was requested to dismount, when our officer politely introduced me to the other, saying:
"The Colonel is anxious to know how in the world you could have gotten by his picket on this bridge last night."
"Yes" says the Colonel, "I've had men on post here who declare that no one passed them during the night."
I was taken all aback, because I had told the party who had captured me that I had followed the road right along.
"Well," said I, "I walked right over this bridge last night, and saw no one here at all."
What a whopper that was; but I knew that I'd got to go through with it. Turning abruptly away from us, both the officers walked off a short distance and brought a sergeant forward to hear my statement; luckily for me, he admitted that at a certain hour he had been obliged to leave the bridge in charge of one man alone; but he insisted that it was for a short time only. After this admission the sergeant and his officer had some interesting talk, in rather an emphatic tone of voice, in which my officer and our squad seemed to take a lively interest. They evidently felt that they had found a weak spot in the infantry line of pickets, and rather enjoyed the honor of having caught the fish that had gotten through the net.
After this little affair had been so happily passed, to my great relief, they all seemed to be in good humor with themselves and with me, and were rather inclined to give me credit for having passed through their infantry successfully. As my escort's horse was having to carry double, and could not be expected to travel as fast as the others, the officer in command directed a second man to stay with us, while himself and the rest of the body-guard rode ahead.
They assumed that, being again inside of their picket-line there was no danger of my getting out to the Yankees—if I had wanted to try to escape from them.
We were directed to hurry to a certain house, where they would order breakfast, and very considerately urging us to hurry along, so we could have it hot. I was apprehensive, from this talk of a breakfast in a house, that I should be landed back into the old bushwhacker's shanty, where I had taken a greasy supper the night before, and had been put to bed in his barn.
I was not sure of the road, nor would I recognize the house, as I had seen it only at night when approaching it from the other side. I felt relieved when we turned out of the broad road into one not so well traveled, which led to the left or south, in the direction of Fairfax or the railroad. To a question as to our destination, my man said: "We are to go to Headquarters, I reckon, but we are to stop up here for a rest and feed."
Sure enough, after passing only a short distance up the side road, we came in sight of an old tumble-down looking house on one side of the road, while across from it was the identical barn that I had crawled out of a few hours earlier. The house and necessary outbuildings of the farm were located between these two roads. I discovered by the daylight, also, that there were quite a number of rebel soldiers encamped in a wood close to this fork of the roads; there was, probably, a brigade of them, or at least a couple of regiments, bivouacking there, as I judged from the smoke of their numerous camp-fires. They were preparing their early breakfasts. These troops, I learned from my companion on our horse, were detailed for the Rebel advance picket duty, and were scattered in detachments all along the front in the best shape to protect their line.
Riding up to the gate, I jumped off the horse with alacrity, and seeing the old bushwhacker in the door, I rushed up to him as if I had found a long-lost father, and began to tell him how glad I was to be safely back there again.
"But," said the old scoundrel, "why didn't you stay here last night?"
"Why, I couldn't sleep in that old barn for the rats, and so I got out; and as I didn't want to waken you all up, I walked off quietly alone, but I got started on the wrong road in the night and came near getting into the Yankee's hands."
"Too bad," said the old rascal, with a sneer and a knowing wink to a group of officers who had gathered around there for a breakfast and had heard my story from our officer. I saw at once that I was a goner, and that my story wouldn't go down here; but, keeping a stiff upper lip, I assumed an air of cheerfulness that I did not at all feel in my heart. I was disturbed, too, to observe that mycommander was being questioned earnestly by several officers, who would every now and then glance significantly at me; from their gestures and manner I knew instinctively that my case was being discussed, and every sign indicated that the verdict would go against me.
This sort of a reception was not calculated to whet my appetite for the breakfast awaiting us. The Georgetown tutor, whom I have termed "my Rebel," was a perfect gentleman, and whatever may have been his own convictions as to my being a spy, he most considerately concealed from me any indications, and refrained from the expression of a suspicion as to the truthfulness of my story. He assumed in my presence that I was a straight refugee; and I inferred, from his intercourse with the officers whom he had met at this old house, that he had defended me as against their suspicions.
A young enlisted man from one of the regiments camped about there had been brought to the house to confront me on my "Maryland story," he being a Marylander. It was supposed he would be able to detect any inaccuracies in my account of Maryland; but I soon satisfied him, and showed the officers who had gathered about that I knew as much about Maryland and Baltimore as he did, and more about the Rebel country. I had fully crammed myself on that subject, in anticipation of being questioned on it.
I have often thought since that, had I fallen into the hands of those infantry officers, after having successfully passed through their lines, they would have been tempted to hang me without trial, and the old bushwhacker would have been glad to have acted hangman. He looked like a veritable Jack Ketch. They well knew that the report of the cavalry officer to headquarters would expose the weakness of their line.
I took occasion at the first opportunity to have a little talk with my officer, to ascertain what he intended to do with me. With a sigh of relief, he said:
"Why, sir, I shall have to leave the matter entirely with the officer who gave you this pass."
That wasn't very comforting, but I didn't say that I felt it was the very worst thing that could befall me; but, instead, I spoke up: "That will be all right. I shall be glad to get away from this place as soon as possible."
"Oh, yes; we will see you safely to our headquarters."
Then giving some directions to the sergeant of his squad to get ready to move, he turned again to me and said, kindly:
"I am sorry that I have no horse for you, sir; and, as we are now detained considerably, I will ride on ahead. These two men will come on more leisurely with you."
That was one good point—the chances for escape were increased three-fourths, or in direct ratio to the reduction of my body-guard, or escort from eight to two.
I was inside the Rebel pickets again, andtheyhad been made more alert, and would be more watchful after their carelessness of the night previous. This, with the fact that I had been scrutinized by so many soldiers on that morning ride through their lines and camps, would make any attempt to escape in that direction doubly dangerous; therefore I concluded I should try to quietly get away from these two soldiers at the first favorable opportunity; if I succeeded, I should not dare to attempt passingthatpicket-line a second time, especially in daylight.
It was quite a relief to me to say good-by to the old bushwhacker and his crowd of Rebs from my seat on the rear end of the horse. He had something to say about "not coming back that way again," as we rode off. They detained our companion a moment or two, while I imagined they poured into his head some cautions or directions about taking care of me. When he caught up to us, he said, laughingly: "Them fellows think you are a bad man."
This was thought to be too funny for anything; and to keep up the joke, I grabbed my man around the stomach and called on him to surrender to me at once, or I'd pull his hair.
We trotted along the road in this laughing humor for a mile or so; my heart was not in the laughing mood, but I, like the broken-hearted and distressed comedian on the stage, was playing a part, and, in a greater sense than theirs, my "living" depended upon my success in acting the character well.
At one point in the road my comrade had dismounted for awhile, and kindly gave me the bridle-rein to hold. I was then in possession of the horse, he was afoot, his gun standing by a fence-corner, and himself on the other side of the fence. This was a pretty good chance for a horse-race with the other fellow, who was still mounted, but he had the advantage of holding a carbine and a belt full of pistols, while I was unarmed. I wasn't afraid ofhisguns. I took in the situation at once, and would like very much to be able give the reader a thrilling account of a race inside the Rebel lines, but the hard facts are—I was afraid to undertake it. I had discovered at the foot of the hill, near a stream of water, in the direction in which we were going, the smoke of a camp, and probably a road guard was over the little bridge.
These soldiers, I knew, would halt me with a volley from their muskets, especially if I should come tearing down with an armed Rebel shouting after me. On the other side, toward the out lines, the course would lead me back into the Rebel camps and past the old bushwhacker's house we had recently left, and I preferred going to headquarters to getting back into their clutches again.
When my man remounted and I surrendered the reins to him, I observed that, if I had wanted to have gone back, or to run off with his horse, I could have done it, and at least had a race with our companion; they had not thought of the danger at all, and were both tickled at this evidence of my good intention; neither of them had seen the infantry guard ahead of us, which was theonlyobstacle to my attempting to carry out this "good intention."
We trotted and walked further down the hill and passed inside the guard; in going up the next hill, I proposed relieving the horse by walking a little; this was readily granted, and I slipped off on to the road and stretched my legs in training for a run, if a chance offered. I remarked jokingly to the soldiers, who rode along leisurely, that they had better watch me close; that, as we were now inside of about three lines of pickets, or road guards, being such a dangerous fellow, I might fly back over their heads into the Yankee's lines.
This sort of pleasantry seemed to keep them in an easy frame of mind, and they began to act as if they were ashamed of the fact, that two heavily-armed men on horseback should be necessary to guard one unarmed boy on foot. One of the men discovered a house standing back from the road, at which they proposed getting water for their horses and ourselves, so we all turned into the little road leading right up to the place.
Our first inquiry was met at the kitchen door, in answer to hisrequest for a cup to drink from, by a real neat, young, colored gal, whose laughing, happy face showed a mouthful of beautiful teeth while the red struggling through the black showed a beautiful cherry color in her lips.
Both the boys were attracted, and began immediately, in the true Southern chivalrous style, to make themselves agreeable to the "likely gal." I didn't have anything to say. The other two fellows kept up the fun for quite a little while, becoming every moment more and more interested, and actually became jealous of each other. I saw that this was likely to be my opportunity and encouraged the performance. While they were both dismounted and "resting" on the old back porch buzzing the gal, I carelessly observed that I'd go around to a little out building. They had gained so much confidence in me that my proposition was assented to without a word, or even a nod; and the boys both sat still, while I unconcernedly walked around the corner of the house.
How long they sat there and talked I do not know, and what became of the two good boys in gray will never be told by me.
As far as their history is concerned in this story, it closes with this scene on the back porch of the old house.
Apparently there were "no men folks" about the house at the time of our morning visit. However, through a window, I saw the white cap of an old lady, whose bright eyes shone through her large-rimmed specs intently on the group that sat on her back porch.
I had taken observations every foot of our march during the morning, with an eye single to the main chance, when the opportunity should offer, to escape from the guard—either to run or to hide from pursuit. Under such conditions, one's wits take on a keen edge. Directly back of the house, but on the other side of two open fields, was the edge of a wood that extended a long way in both directions. This wood was the timber or inclosed land down in the "hollow" or bottom, as they term the low lands, while the road on which we were traveling stretched in almost a straight line over the higher ground.
Once around the corner of the house, I stopped a moment to take in the situation. I saw at a glance that the wood was my only chance, because cavalry could not follow me on horseback through the undergrowth, where I could go on foot. I felt equal to both of them—except the guns.
A dividing fence ran along the fields toward the house, and quickly scaling this, I turned for a look back, then thinking of the doubly dangerous risk of a second capture while attempting to escape, being actually in the enemy's army, I was nerved to desperation and made a break for liberty, feeling that I could almost fly. I ran like a pursued deer.
I took off my hat—I don't know why, but I always take off my hat when anything desperate is to be attempted. I didn't stop to pray in a fence-corner, but, in a half-stooping position, so as to keep under cover of the fence, I ran like a deer along that old stake-and-rider fence, and I made, I know, as good time as ever boy did in a race after hounds. In the middle of the field an old negro man was working alone. I stopped for a moment when I saw him, butas I was, luckily, on the opposite side of the fence from him, he did not see me. This old moke had a dog along with him—they all have dogs. I was more afraid of the dog than of guns. This black apparition in my path to the woods necessitated a slight change of direction, to avoid him, as well as the scent of the mangy-looking old dog, that I imagined was "pointing" me.
I was soon under the hill, from where I stopped a minute to look back. I could see only the top of the house that I had just left, and I knew they could not see me; so, leaving the protecting shadow of the fence, I struck boldly across the field in a direction leading furthest away from the old coon and his dog, in a course toward headquarters, the same in which we had been traveling. I knew, or at least imagined, that, immediately on discovering my escape, they would naturally think that I would return, or that I should at least try to make toward their front, and again try to escape into the Yankee lines.
This was their mistake. My plan had been deliberately formed before hand to do precisely the opposite thing—which was to run ahead, or toward the Rebel headquarters, trusting to the chances of putting pursuers off my scent, and hoping to lose my identity in the crowd among the Rebel camps.
Like the hunted fox, my tracks zigzagged me back to the road we intended to follow, but brought me out ahead of the house. Before risking myself on the road a second time, I peered through the fence cautiously, from whence I could see up and down the road for a long way. The coast was entirely clear; and, cautiously crawling through the lower bar of the fence, I did not run across the road; no, indeed, Icrawledacross on my hands and knees, like a hog, so that I might the better avoid any chance of observation, and, in the same ignominious style, I hogged it through the lower panel of the fence on the other side. Once safely over the road, I quickly changed my character from the swinish quadruped to the biped; and, without turning to look either to the right or to the left, I crawled along that fence right alongside of the road, in as speedy a manner as was possible.
It was more luck than good management on my part that I had been forced back on to and over the road by the presence of the black man and his dog. In pursuit they would naturally follow,but the old man would be sure to swear that I had not gone in the direction that I had been obliged to take, because he had been there all the time and had not seen me.
While the two clever cavalrymen were probably skirmishing around on their horses along the road, or through the fields to their front, looking after me, I was rapidly traveling in a course directly opposite, and they would not be likely to suspect that I had crossed the road.
There were no woods on the side of the fence or road on which I had placed myself, and I was obliged to keep close to the fence, and followed right alongside of the road for quite a long way.
At the bottom of the hill was a dry run; that is, there was a gravelly bed over which a small stream should have coursed, but the water was not there in August, 1861. The banks were, however, pretty well shaded or covered with a light undergrowth of willows, or some such trees as usually are seen in these situations. It was a good chance for me to get away from the road fence, so I ran along the run-bed toward the south, under the protection of the shady undergrowth. There were no signs of life along this stream; it was deserted both by the water and the things that live in and above the water.
Its course led me a long way from the road. After successfully passing a house, which was near the top of the hill, at a safe distance, unobserved, I got into a second wood and lay down on the ground for a much-needed rest.
I did not dare to stop long in any one place, knowing only too well that, when my guard should report that he had lost his prisoner, the Rebel cavalry about headquarters would be sent out to search for me, with probable orders to all guarded points to keep an especial lookout for a person of my description. I could not stay in the wood, though I could best conceal myself there, because I knew that I would famish. I was already in real distress for want of a drink of water, and, as I lay there in the wood, my brain began to conjure up all sorts of torments. I imagined that the dry bed of the stream over which I had been stumbling was mocking me with an appearance of moisture.
If any who chance to read this have ever had a couple of hours violent exercise in a dusty country, on a hot August day, and longed for a drink of water, they may appreciate my misery. Idon't imagine that I can convey in words any conception of the suffering, the intense suffering one may experience for a drop of water, when they can't get it. The experience will almost drive one wild. I believe this, because, on more than one occasion, I have seen the demon of this anguish look into my eyes with the wild glare of the frenzied maniac.
The drizzling rain of the morning had given way to a sultry, close noon, and as I lay panting in the shade of the wood, the sun hung out like a huge, blazing copper ball, and poured down his fiercest heat. I thought of the beautiful, clear, cold spring on the hill-side back of my father's house, in Pennsylvania, where I had so often, when a boy, been sent for a bucket of water, and had so reluctantly obeyed, thinking it a great hardship to be compelled to throw out a whole bucket ofgoodwater just because it wasn't fresh and cold. I would have given anything in the world for just one chance to be a better boy at home, and solemnly pledged myself never to kick again on my turn at going for water.
I called up involuntarily all the soda fountains I had ever seen in the cities, and became frenzied over the idea that I began to hear in my mind the buzzing noise of the little sprays of water that were always to be heard dashing against the glass case. Unable to stand it any longer, I got up and made a break for water, determined that I must find it at any risk.
In this condition of mind I trotted along slowly, like a hunted wolf, with his tongue hanging out. Let's see. I've compared myself to a monkey riding on the rear end of a horse; a deer stalking behind the fence; a fox with zigzag tracks being chased by a dog; a hog under a fence; and now it's a chased wolf. I hope to exhaust Noah's Ark before I complete the story, and am trying to keep the score in view.
I found a pool of water on the outer edge of the wood. There had been a spring about there some place at some time. If there had been any hogs about they would have found it first and utilized it as a bath; as it was, it was partly covered with a greenish slime. I had spent some time in Texas, where it only rains once in seven years, and had learned, while traveling about that country, that the green scum is considered an indication ofgood water. That's a fact. A Texan will always prefer to take a drink from apool on which there is this scum. So, in my distress, for the want of a drink—of anything, so it was water or something wet—I eagerly skimmed a place large enough to poke my nose and mouth into, and sucked into my parched throat a long drink of the warm stuff.
I had also learned another drinking trick in Texas, which is—always to hold your breath as long as possible after taking a drink of what they call water, in order to conceal as far as possible the taste in the mouth which necessarily follows the nauseous dose.
But we must hurry along and get out of the woods with the story. I reached, after considerable dodging, a railroad. I judged it was the Manassas road, leading from Alexandria past Fairfax Station back toward Manassas. I was not sure of my location, but I was glad enough to strike a railroad-track, because I knew that cavalry could not travel on ties as fast as I could, and I hoped, too, that it would afford me some chance to get away from the cussed country more rapidly.
I didn't dare walk the track, but I followed along it for quite a long way. At one point, where there was a long, straight line, I discovered some distance ahead a soldier on guard. I imagined it was a bridge or culvert guard, and I knew that I could not pass that point. While getting ready to go around them, I observed that the telegraph wire, which had become destroyed and was repaired at one point, was quite low; the men who had done the work had evidently not been able to climb a pole, and had left it hanging over the bushes. The sight of the wire in this shape, put into my head the idea that it would be well enough to destroy their communication right there, and prevent the use ofthatmeans of spreading information about a spy being loose in their camps.
Getting to one side of the bushes, I easily got hold of the wire from my position on the ground, and, hauling it as far as possible to one side, after hastily glancing up and down the road to see that no one was near to observe me, I "yanked," or by a dexterous "twist of the wrist," which a wire-man understands, I was able to break the wire, which, the minute the tension was removed, suddenly flew apart, making the adjoining poles resound with the vibration. I was frightened at the consequence of my act and dodged hastily into the shelter of the wood.