clogged with carts and drays and wagons of all sorts, for the citizens
were moving to places of safety.

As a man, the boy's memory did not tell him how the boys fared, but he
does remember that it was dark in the timber where they camped that
night, and that they slipped away into the woods to lie down together.
The chirping of the birds at dawn wakened them, and as John sat up
rubbing his eyes, he heard a rifle's crack. They were at the edge of a
field, and half a mile from him, troops were marching by columns
across a clearing. The rifle-shot was followed by another, and
another, and then by a half-dozen. "Wake up, Bob--wake up--they's a
battle," he cried, and the two boys stumbled to their feet. The shots
were far in front of the marching soldiers, and the boys could not
make out what the firing meant. The line formed and ran up the hill,
and the boys saw the morning sun flashing on the guns of the enemy.
The battery roared, and the boys were filled with terror. They ran
through the woods like dogs until they came to the soldiers from
Sycamore Ridge. The boys crawled on their bellies to their friends,
and lay with their faces all but buried in the ground. The men were
lying at the edge of the timber talking, and Watts McHurdie was on his
back.

"What's the matter with you, Watts?" asked Oscar Fernald.

"Os," replied Watts, "I got a presentiment I'm goin' to be shot in the
rear. It will kill me to be shot in the back, and I've got a notion
that's how I am goin' to die."

The line laughed. Captain Ward, who was sitting a few paces in the
rear of the men, went over to Watts, and scuffled the man over with