I led the horse back, past where the disabled Confederate lay, pausing an instant to look down on the dim figure. He groaned, and turned partially over on one side, evidence that consciousness was returning. The man was not badly hurt, and I felt no deep regret at his condition. I could distinguish the narrow bridle path by my feet, and knew I would be less conspicuous out of the saddle. However, nothing opposed our progress, and we even succeeded in crossing the road without being observed. Here a long slope, rutted, and partially covered with low bushes, led directly down to the river, and we pushed through the tangle, keeping well hidden. Once on the bank of the stream all above was concealed from view, but I listened in vain for any sound indicative of pursuit. The night was mysteriously still, unbroken, even the air motionless. Obsessed now by the one controlling impulse to get away safely, I drove the horse into the water, and as he reached swimming depth, grasped a stirrup leather, and compelled him to strike out for the opposite shore. It was not a hard struggle, nor were we long at it, although the current was swift enough to bear us down a hundred feet, or more, before we struck bottom, wading out at the mouth of a small creek, the low banks offering some slight concealment. I looked back through the darkness, across the dim water, and up the shrouded hill on the opposite side. Lights were winking here and there like fire-flies. I stared at them, light-hearted, confident I had every advantage; then I patted the horse, and adjusted the stirrups.
"She waited until we were safe across, old fellow," I said, too pleased to remain still. "Now we'll ride for it."
He turned his head, and rubbed his nose along my arm. The next moment I was in the saddle, spurring him up the bank.
CHAPTER XV
I MEET AN EX-SLAVE
In this narrative of adventure it would but waste the reader's time to indulge in any extended description of military movements. The interest of my story centres around individuals rather than the great events of history, and I will touch these but briefly, so as to make the surrounding conditions sufficiently clear. It was noon the following day when I reached headquarters with my report, only to find that rumors of the combined movements of Johnston's and Beauregard's forces had already penetrated our lines. I could merely add details to the information previously received. The result was the immediate strengthening of our position to repel any possible attack. None occurred however, except desultory skirmishing. Later we learned the reason to be the failure of Chambers to appear, his march having been retarded by heavy rains.
At the end of this period of waiting our army was well prepared for action, the troops eager to test the strength of the enemy. Impatient of delay, and suspecting the probable cause of the Confederate quietness, we finally took the aggressive, determined to regain our former position south of the river. An. early morning attack won us the bridge and the town beyond, while heavy forces rushed the available fords, and after some severe fighting, obtained foothold on the opposite bank. Hastily throwing up intrenchments these advance troops succeeded in repulsing two charges before nightfall. This brought an end to hostilities. During the hours of darkness reinforcements were hurried across the stream. By dawn the opposing forces were about evenly mated, and every man in either line knew a battle was imminent.
In this emergency the need of every soldier was felt, and I was returned to my regiment for duty. We were the first to trot over the recaptured bridge, and through the deserted streets of the village. Impelled by a curiosity which could not be resisted I wheeled my horse and rode up the gravelled driveway to Judge Moran's door, but to my vigorous knocking there was no response. The shades were drawn at the windows, the house silent, and yet I felt convinced the old partisan was within, watching from some point of vantage. Yet if I believed this, the same silence and refusal to respond also served to convince me that Miss Hardy was no longer there. She was a vastly different type, and would exhibit interest even in the coming of the enemy. Ay! and she would have seen me, and not for one moment could I be made to believe that she would treat me with contempt.
I rode back slowly to rejoin the column of horsemen, glancing over my shoulder at the house, my mind busily occupied with the stirring events which had transpired there. She had gone with the Confederate troops, and had probably already been safely returned to her own home. Moran might have departed also, but more likely he remained to look after his property. I wondered who was her escort for the long ride--would it be Captain Le Gaire, sufficiently recovered from his injuries for this service, yet scarcely capable of active military duty? If so, he was with her still, a guest at "The Gables," sufficiently an invalid to be interesting, and to require attention, but with tongue in good repair. I was glad I had told my story first; the gentleman would experience some difficulty in changing Miss Willifred's opinion of the affair.