Twenty minutes later he rode out of the lines, accompanied by a stolid Hessian whom he had chosen as his attendant. They went down the south road until arriving at another running westward. Here he stationed his comrade, saying to him in his own tongue:
“Stay here until I return, unless the Yankees come along in full force, in which case you are to ride to camp as fast as your horse will go, and tell your colonel. Do you understand?”
He grunted an assent, and Ira rode off to the east, saying to himself: “You’ll see no Yankee force to-night, my good fellow.”
A mile further on he came to a farm-house, up to which he rode boldly, and dismounted. Three rapid knocks on the door brought an immediate response.
“I’ll join you in a moment,” a voice said, and soon a stalwart form stepped from the darkness within into the darkness without. Approaching the horseman, he peered into his face an instant, and then exclaimed:
“Ho, Ira! It is you! Well, what is up?”
“I must go into the fort to-night,” the rider explained in low tones. “I will leave my horse here. What is the password?”
The man placed his lips to the lad’s ear, and whispered the information he desired.
“All right,” he replied. “I will be back in a few hours.”
He then gave the reins of his steed into the farmer’s hands, and, passing around the house, crossed an open field to the nearest thicket, into which he plunged. When he emerged from the timber he was near the fortress. Boldly approaching the sentinel, he replied to the challenge by giving the password, and in a few minutes was in the presence of General St. Clair.