I ventured the suggestion, by way of a compromise to my cross companion, that if he had taken the lead in our approach to the house, as I had earnestly urged upon him, I might have been in as bad a fix as himself. To this offer of a compromise he curtly replied:
"No; I wouldn't have tried to jump out of my skin, just because I had kicked a sleeping sow in a fence-corner." He had scarcely finished speaking when he stumbled square across the back of an old cow, that was quietly lying in the grass chewing her cud; but cows, you know, are not so sudden in their movements as hogs, when they are startled out of their sleep. This one, anyway, didn't make any unearthly noise or snorts, nor attempt to jump up and run off, but lay still, quietly chewing away, apparently perfectly unconcerned.
I believe she would have allowed a whole army to have crawled over her without disturbing her repose, but the incident served to put us both in a laughing humor. I concluded, however, that I'd had enough experience with the hogs and cows of Virginia, while we were trying to navigate the fields, and I would take to the highway and risk the short cut back.
The night was dark, very dark, having become more so than when we were on the way out. Clouds had obscured almost every star, and, to make it still worse, we heard at times distant thunder. "The lowering elements scowled o'er the already darkened landscape," compelling us to almost grope our way along the old country road; but, luckily for us, we were now on the broad, well-traveled country road between two lines of fence, which served to keep us in the right course, as we cautiously felt our way with outstretched hands, and eyes peering into the darkness ahead, fearing every moment to come in contact with something that would give us another "start."
To the sounds of the thunder, which were not now so remote, were added occasional flashes of lightning; these, had I been at home in a comfortable bed, would probably have only produced the agreeable influence of lulling me into the enjoyment of a more snug sleep, but out there, on that road that night, the effect was quite different on both of us.
We were yet a long way from our camp—how far we had no means of knowing, as our route into Virginia had been somewhat circuitous, on account of the necessary avoidance of all the roads.
Pretty soon the big drops began to fall over us; the lightning flashes were more vivid and frequent; the thunder seemed to be all around us; then it rained in earnest, an old-fashioned, Virginia, summer-night's rain, wetting the two miserable scouts to the skin in a little while. It was no use to look for shelter, and we both resolutely made up our minds to grin and bear it; pulling our hats down and shrugging up our shoulders, we sullenly tramped along that Virginia highway, two as forlorn-looking objects as may be imagined.
In this frame of mind we stumbled right into another road obstruction. We had come upon it in this raging storm from the rear, and found the place vacant. We captured the fort, which we could see from the now frequent flashes of lightning was simply a slight mound of earth thrown across and extending some distance to each side of the road, in the form of a rifle pit; embrasures were made for cannon, and through one of these peered a log, or stick of wood, shaped like an iron cannon, the rear end or breech of which was supported on a saw-horse platform of crossed sticks. On the crest of their "works" were placed some fence rails, while in front, and some little distance down, some trees had been felled over the road, their branches being stripped of the leaves to answer the purpose of an abatis. In the darkness, we were unable to discover any signs of the place having ever been occupied by the rebel forces.
My companion recklessly began striking matches, which he had been able to keep in a dry place on his person, but, luckily for us, perhaps, had there been any one set to watch the place, and who might be only seeking a temporary shelter from the storm, his attempts to illuminate were frustrated by the gusts of wind and rain, which blew the light out as quickly as it was born.
Tired, wet, hungry and disgusted with ourselves, we sat down there in the enemy's camp to rest—if sitting on a log in a blinding rain-storm for an hour may be called resting—but we could do nothing else; the night was too dreadfully dark, and the wind and rain too blustering to allow us to safely travel on the winding roads, which lead through long strips of woods that seemed to paint everything, if possible, with a deeper gloom; beside this, we had discovered, by the lightning flashes, that the road in our front was blockaded by fallen trees, and the thought occurred to us that on this road there might be some Rebel guards seeking protection from the storm in some sheltered places.