"The master's folks isn't out of bed yet, but I specs dem sogers will want dey hosses, so I'se gwine along to de barn to feed, Liza."
The hint was sufficient, and to my hurried inquiry:
"Are there any cavalrymen at the house?"
"Yes, 'deed; dahs a whole company sleepin' on de front poach over dar."
"How long have they been here?" said I, putting down my cup.
"Dey comes hyar most every night, and sleeps on dat poach tel they get over breakfast."
That was sufficient. I had lost all pain in my arm; my hunger had been satisfied with less than half a breakfast, and, hastily thanking the old aunty, I made an excuse about not wanting them to know I was out of camp, and left—the shortest cut for the woods.
I was up to my pursuers, and had left them asleep on the porch, awaiting their breakfast. This would give me an hour's start ahead of them, and I gathered renewed courage from the belief that they would return from that point.
As I have heretofore said, I am not a believer in Spiritualism, but I have always felt convinced in my own mind that the dog was sent by a higher power to prevent me going up to the house where were sleeping a half a dozen or more Rebel cavalrymen.
I struggled along through the dreary, desolate, pine woods, skirting the roads and avoiding houses, suffering with my wounded foot, wrist and arm; fortunately the houses were not many, which allowed of my using the road more freely. It was along about noon, I think, when I reached the top of the hill at the old town of Falmouth, which overlooks Fredericksburg and vicinity. Here was an obstruction in the shape of the Rappahannock river, which had to be crossed by a ferry into Fredericksburg. Of course, everybody who crossed there would be scrutinized closely, so that their identity could be traced.