CHAPTER XI. — IN THE PRESENCE OF SHERIDAN
It had been dark for nearly an hour before we entered what was from all appearances a large and populous camp. Hurried forward constantly, closely surrounded by my guard, I was enabled to gain but an inadequate conception of either its situation or extent. Yet the distance traversed by our party after passing the outer sentries and before we made final halt, taken in connection with evidence on every side of the presence in considerable numbers of all the varied branches of the service, convinced me we were within no mere brigade encampment, but had doubtless arrived at the main headquarters of this department.
Although I noted all this in a vague way, so as to recall it afterwards, yet I was too thoroughly fatigued to care where I was or what became of me. Hardened as I had grown through experience to exposure and weariness, the continuous strain undergone since I had ridden westward from General Lee's tent had completely unnerved me. No sooner was I thrust into the unknown darkness of a hut by the not unkindly sergeant, than I threw myself prone on the floor, and was sound asleep before the door had fairly closed behind him.
My rest was not destined to be a long one. It seemed I had barely closed my eyes when a rough hand shook me again into consciousness. The flaming glare of an uplifted pine-knot flung its radiance over half-a-dozen figures grouped in the open doorway. A corporal, with a white chin beard, was bending over me.
“Come, Johnny,” he said tersely, “get up—you're wanted.”
The instinct of soldierly obedience in which I had been so long trained caused me to grope my way to my feet.
“What time is it, Corporal?” I asked sleepily.
“After midnight.”