beyond.

"They will not do that again," he thought; "the next time they will
use a charge of grape. I must keep my eye upon the gun; the smoke
will apprise me--the report arrives too late; it lags behind the
missile. That is a good gun."

Suddenly he felt himself whirled round and round--spinning like a top.
The water, the banks, the forests, the now distant bridge, fort and
men, all were commingled and blurred. Objects were represented by
their colors only; circular horizontal streaks of color--that was all
he saw. He had been caught in a vortex and was being whirled on with a
velocity of advance and gyration that made him giddy and sick. In few
moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of
the stream--the southern bank--and behind a projecting point which
concealed him from his enemies. The sudden arrest of his motion, the
abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him, and he wept
with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw it over himself
in handfuls and audibly blessed it. It looked like diamonds, rubies,
emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not
resemble. The trees upon the bank were giant garden plants; he noted
a definite order in their arrangement, inhaled the fragrance of their
blooms. A strange roseate light shone through the spaces among their
trunks and the wind made in their branches the music of AEolian harps.
He had not wish to perfect his escape--he was content to remain in
that enchanting spot until retaken.

A whiz and a rattle of grapeshot among the branches high above his
head roused him from his dream. The baffled cannoneer had fired him a
random farewell. He sprang to his feet, rushed up the sloping bank,