The camp being several miles distant, nothing remained but to wait
patiently for some means of transportation. It was near sunset when
the loud singing of a negro driver was heard. Soon he appeared upon a
novel conveyance,--a rough, unplaned board or two on wheels and drawn
by a single ox. Unpromising as this "_turnout_" appeared, we were
informed that it was a "Godsend," so we joyfully mounted the cart, a
soldier being detailed to accompany us. My little son was made
supremely happy by being invited to sit upon the lap of the driver,
whose characteristic songs beguiled the way through the shadowy woods.
Within a few miles of camp the challenge of a sentry was heard; half
an hour later we found ourselves among the tents of the Dreux
Battalion.

My husband was "on guard," perhaps thinking sadly of his absent wife
and boy, certainly never dreaming they were so near. As the ambulance
drove into camp it was at once surrounded by soldiers, both officers
and privates. As soon as my name was known, some one who evidently
appreciated the situation rushed off in hot haste to notify and
relieve the soldier most interested. Meantime a dozen hands clasped
mine in kindly greeting. To whom they belonged I could not tell, for
the dense shade shut out the moonlight, and seen by the light of the
camp-fires, disguised as each one was in the rough garb of a soldier,
my quondam city friends wore quite unrecognizable.

I will leave to the imagination of the reader the happy meeting
between long-parted ones and the many caresses showered upon our
child.

I had expected nothing better than to spend the night in the ambulance
or under a tent, and would have taken great pride in "camping out,"