It is never pleasant to be the bearer of ill tidings, and Peggy found herself lagging more than once in her journey. The afternoon was drawing to a close when she came in sight of the town on the Eno near which the army was encamped. They had passed around it in the morning. Mrs. Hart had feared that her husband might be tempted into staying with the army, and so had insisted upon the détour.
The little town, nestled among beautiful eminences, seemed deserted as the maiden rode down the long unpaved street to the upland beyond, where the camp lay. In reality the inhabitants were at supper, and sundry fragrant odors were wafted from the various dwellings to the passing girl. Peggy, however, was too heavy of heart for an appeal to the senses, though she had not tasted food since the morning meal.
Passing at length through a defile the encampment came to view. It was surrounded with woods, and guarded in its rear by the smooth and gentle river. A farmhouse in the immediate neighborhood served as headquarters for the officers.
Numerous horses were tethered in rows about the upland plain. There were no tents or huts, but rude accommodations for the men had been made by branches and underwood set against ridge-poles that were sustained by stakes, and topped by sheaves of Indian corn.
Groups of men were scattered over the plain, some wagons were to be seen in one direction, and not far off, a line of fires around which parties were engaged cooking food. Here and there a sentinel was pacing his short limits, and occasionally the roll of the drum, or the flourish of a fife told of some ceremony of the camp.
Peggy had but time to observe these details when she was stopped by the picket who demanded the countersign.
“I know it not, friend,” was her response. “Lead me at once to thy general, I beg thee; for I bear despatches for him.”
At this moment the officer in charge of the relief guard, for the beautiful and inspiring music of the sunset retreat was just sounding, came up.
“What is it, Johnson?” he asked. Peggy gave a little cry at the sound of his voice.
“John!” she cried. “John Drayton!”