occupied by the general; but these were unlighted and silent. I crept
past them unobserved, emerging into a more open space, where my groping
hands encountered wheel-tracks, and the beaten earth of a road.

This apparently ran nearly east and west, as I recalled direction, and I
turned to the right, bending low in the shadows, and advancing at a
crouching run. Seemingly there was nothing to obstruct progress. The
noise of stomping and restless horses reached me from the left,
evidence of a nearby cavalry or artillery camp; yet I saw no one,
perceived no light even, until after advancing at least a quarter of a
mile. Then a sudden slight turn in the road brought me upon a rude
shack, showing a blacksmith's fire glowing within, and the smith himself
pounding busily away at an anvil. The gleam of the forge shot out redly
across the road. As I crept closer I could perceive the figures of
others lounging about inside--soldiers, no doubt, although I could not
be certain. There was a ragged Confederate cavalry jacket hanging over a
rain-barrel just outside the window, and, getting hold of it, I slipped
it on over my woollen shirt. The night air was chill, my clothes still
damp from the river, and besides it might help later on. As I did this a
rider came flying up the road, bending low over his pommel. He went past
at a slashing gallop, his face showing an instant in the red glare of
the flame. That, no doubt, would be the aide with the despatches, yet,
in spite of his haste, he would have to wait to the end of the hour for
Billie. One or two of the men came lazily to the front of the shop to
watch him go by, and I crouched down behind the rain-barrel until they
went back again. Then I skirted the bar of flame, and ran on down the
road, a bit recklessly, fearing the horseman might get too far ahead.

It was intensely dark, one of those dense nights when the blackness
appears to press down upon one, and there were noises on either side to