For some time I felt sure of having the right course in my head and hurried on. But when I had crossed a large field of deadened timber I was completely lost. Soon, however, I reached a road which seemed to lead right, and followed it with renewed vigor for several miles. At length I met three men on horseback. It was too dark to tell whether they were negroes or white men, but I ventured to ask them,—
"How far is it to Chattanooga?"
"Three miles!"
"Is this the right road?"
"Yes, sah, right ahead."
These, probably, were men sent out to search for the railroad adventurers, and they did not try to arrest me because I had accosted them so boldly and was going directly towards Chattanooga.
But it was evident I was again on the wrong road. Indeed, so hopelessly bewildered was I that it seemed impossible to travel any but the wrong road. As soon as the horsemen were out of sight I turned and followed them three or four miles, until I came to a large road running at right angles with my own, which terminated where it entered the other. I deliberated some time as to which end of this new road I should take. These mountain-roads are fearfully crooked, and the one I had been travelling bent too often to give me the direction even of the dreaded Chattanooga.
Many a time had I wished for a sight of the moon and stars. Long before the clash of arms had been heard in our peaceful land, before the thunder of battle had filled a nation with weeping, astronomy had been my favorite study, and I had often longed for the parting of the clouds, that, with my telescope, I might gaze on the wonders of the world above. But never did I bend so anxious an eye to the darkened firmament as in my solitary wanderings over the Georgia hills that memorable night. All in vain! No North Star appeared to point with beam of hope to the land of the free!
But at length I made choice, and, as usual, on this night chose wrong. After I had gone a long distance the moon did for a moment break through a rift in the clouds and pour her welcome light down on the dark forest through which I was passing. That one glance was enough to show me that I was heading towards the railroad I had left in the morning. Even then the light was a compensation for all the disappointment, but in a moment it withdrew and the rain fell again in torrents. Wearily I turned and retraced my tedious steps, hoping in vain for another glimpse of the moon.
One of my feet had been injured by an accident three months before, and now pained me exceedingly. Still I dragged myself along. My nerves had become exhausted by the long-continued tension they had endured, and now played me many fantastic tricks, which became more marked as the night wore on. I passed the place where the wrong choice of roads had been made, and still toiled ahead.