"Doctor, if you'll put me in the way to do it, I'll try it!" I exclaimed, for, somehow, such work had always fascinated me. I did not wish to become a spy, or to act as one for a day even, but I liked the thought of creeping through woods and swamps and learning the positions and movements of the enemy. In Charleston, in my school days, and afterward, I had read Gilmore Simms's scouting stories with, eagerness, and had worshipped his Witherspoon.
"When will you wish to begin?" asked the Doctor.
"Just as soon as possible; this idleness is wearing; to-day, if possible."
"I cannot let you go before to-morrow," said he; "I must try to send you off properly."
When Lydia came in that night, and was told of our purposes by the Doctor, I fancied that she became more serious instantly. But she said little, and I could only infer that she might be creating in her brain false dangers for a friend.
By the next afternoon, which, was the 3d of April, everything was ready for me. The Doctor showed me in his stores-tent a sober suit of gray clothes, not military clothes, but of a cut that might deceive the eye at a distance, yet when closer seen would exonerate the wearer from any suspicion that he was seriously offering himself as a Confederate.
"Now, I had to guess at it," said the Doctor; "but I think it will fit you well enough."
It did fit well enough; it was loose and comfortable, and, purposely, had been soiled somewhat after making. The Doctor gave me also a black felt hat.
"Have you studied the map I gave you?" he asked.
"Yes, I can remember the roads and streams thoroughly," I answered.