this country will be ransacked by the rebel cavalry before
to-morrow night."

"Yes, I know that," said Willis; "I will do the best I can. God bless
you, Jones."

Alone and lightened, I made my way in the darkness to the road which we
had left when we began to seek the ford. I struck the road a mile or
more to the north of Bull Run. There was no moon; thick clouds gave
warning of rain. I knew that to follow this road--the same circuitous
road by which we had advanced in the morning--was not to take the
nearest way to Centreville. I wanted to find the Warrenton turnpike, but
all I knew was that it was somewhere to my right. I determined to make
my way as rapidly as I could in that direction through the fields
and thickets.

For an hour or more I had blundered on through brush and brake, when
suddenly I seemed to hear the noise of a moving wagon. I went cautiously
in the direction of the sound, which soon ceased.

By dint of straining my eyes I could see an oblong form outlined against
the sky.

I went toward it; I could hear horses stamping and harness rattling;
still, I could see no one. The rear of the wagon, if it was a wagon, was
toward me.

I reasoned: "This cannot be a rebel ambulance; there would be no need
for it here; it must be one of ours, or else it is a private carriage;
it certainly is not an army wagon."