But we were on them before they had time for much wonder. Bang! bang! one reeled, another fell. Bang! bang! another empty saddle! and we were past them a hundred yards before they returned our fire. They did not dare pursue us, and we galloped a short distance up the road, then plunged into the woods, and, riding on to the river, we took up its banks, picking our way cautiously through bogs and marshes, and avoiding every sign of habitation and life. So careful were we in our progress that we saw no human being during the day, and at nightfall found ourselves not far from the place where Johnston had his camp when we left. But all day long we had heard the roar of battle, growing louder as we drew nearer, and we knew that there had been a heavy engagement somewhere, and that the positions of both armies had undergone some change. As we determined to ride now in the night, we stopped some time before sunset in a deep secluded dell, to rest our horses till after dark. Ben slipped into an adjoining field and obtained some fodder from a couple of stacks that were standing near the woods, and gave a plentiful supply to our hungry cattle.
”The Yankees will get it all soon, any way,” said Ben, apologetically, as he untied the bundles and shook them out on the ground.
At sunset we could hear the bugle calls of different camps, and mapped out our course for the night accordingly. As soon as it was dark we mounted our horses, which were much refreshed by food and their short rest, and set out to thread the maze of pickets extending miles around. As my disguise was useless in the dark I tore it off, preferring to ride bare-headed to having both sight and hearing impaired by the long, projecting bonnet.
Having located the camps by the sounds of the bugles, we made a wide circuit, which considerably increased the distance we had to travel. After riding for hours in cautious silence, and being, as we thought, very near our lines, our horses began to show signs of giving out. After an hour’s more urging them forward they began to breathe hard and stagger, so that it would have been cruel as well as impossible to ride them further.
”What shall we do?” I asked, barely dismounting in time to keep mine from falling beneath me. Ben’s horse was much better than mine, and would have held out a mile or two further, but he got down immediately, and taking the bridle from his horse, said:
”We’ll have to foot it, I reckon, and leave these Arabs here; somebody ‘ll find them, and a fine team they’ll have, won’t they? I was afeard they wouldn’t hold out when we started, but we couldn’t er got ‘long on good stock. Take your bridle off, so the varmint can browse, and less move on. ‘Taint far no how, and I want to stretch my legs a little.”
Taking the bridles and saddles off we let the poor jaded creatures go free, and set out on foot through the darkness. We had not gone more than half a mile when Ben caught my arm and said, in a whisper: ”Shh! Listen!”
Not a hundred paces ahead of us we heard the unmistakable tell-tale of the horse, and the frequent betrayal of the picket—that peculiar flutter of the animal’s lip as the breath is forced through the nose—that is very frequent, and audible at a considerable distance in the night. Simultaneously whispering the single word, ”Pickets!” we crept forward with Indian stealthiness, feeling for twigs before we stepped, and parting the bushes carefully before we passed through them.
”What do you intend to do when we find them?” I asked, in a low voice, of Ben, who generally assumed the responsibility of directing.