“Certainly; I think I understand what is required,” replied Somers, as he descended the steep bank of the ravine into the water.
The banks of the stream were of course occupied by the pickets of the two armies, and his course led him through both of them. He was just as much exposed to a shot from one as from the other. Somers was a man of experience in this business. He had earned a reputation as a scout, and had on three occasions brought in information of the utmost value to the Union commanders. Indeed, his skill in this particular branch had procured for him his promotion and his present honorable position on the staff of “Fighting Joe.” He was now to undertake a fearful risk—more fearful, perhaps, than any he had before incurred; but the greater the danger, the more valuable the service rendered; and the result of to-morrow’s battle might depend upon the fidelity with which he discharged his difficult duty.
He wore his long boots, and he continued to feel his way on the verge of the stream, without going in beyond his depth. The ravine was fringed with a thick growth of bushes, which shielded him from the observation of the pickets; but the slightest sound would expose him to the fire of the men. In many places the trees formed an arch over the brook, and the darkness was so dense that he could hardly distinguish an object six feet from him. He did not walk; he crept, putting his feet down as a cat does when she is on the point of pouncing on her prey.
After advancing a short distance he heard low voices on the banks above him. He was passing the first line of pickets—that of the Union army. His progress was very slow, but he succeeded in his purpose without drawing the fire of the sentinels. He was now between the two lines, and he quickened his pace a little.
While he was thus creeping through the shallow water, he discovered in the gloom a dark object before him. He paused, and ascertained that it was a human figure—a man, who had also stopped; but whether friend or enemy he could not determine.
CHAPTER IX.
BETWEEN THE PICKETS.
THE man in the ravine stood stock still, and Somers stood stock still. Each had apparently discovered the other at the same moment, and each was disturbed by the same doubts in regard to the other. It was a dead lock, to all intents and purposes, for neither was willing to advance and betray himself to the other. Somers had his pistols; but a shot, if he was compelled to shoot the stranger, might call forth the fire of the pickets on both sides.
It was not a pleasant situation for either party; and they stood like black statues, each waiting for a movement on the part of the other. The only thing that Somers could do was to retire in the direction he had come; but this involved the failure of the enterprise in which he had engaged, and possibly endangered the result of the next day’s battle. He was not disposed to withdraw; for if the worst came, he could shoot his opponent, and lie down under the bank of the ravine to shelter himself from the fire of the pickets. He waited a reasonable time for the dark stranger to say or do something; but as he seemed to be endowed with the patience of Job, our scout decided to take the initiative himself.