away on the opposite side of the Chickahominy valley heard nothing of
what they clearly saw. The bombardment of Port Royal, heard and felt
at St. Augustine, a hundred and fifty miles to the south, was
inaudible two miles to the north in a still atmosphere. A few days
before the surrender at Appomattox a thunderous engagement between
the commands of Sheridan and Pickett was unknown to the latter
commander, a mile in the rear of his own line.

These instances were not known to the man of whom we write, but less
striking ones of the same character had not escaped his observation.
He was profoundly disquieted, but for another reason than the uncanny
silence of that moonlight march.

"Good Lord!" he said to himself--and again it was as if another had
spoken his thought--"if those people are what I take them to be we
have lost the battle and they are moving on Nashville!"

Then came a thought of self--an apprehension--a strong sense of
personal peril, such as in another we call fear. He stepped quickly
into the shadow of a tree. And still the silent battalions moved
slowly forward in the haze.

The chill of a sudden breeze upon the back of his neck drew his
attention to the quarter whence it came, and turning to the east he
saw a faint gray light along the horizon--the first sign of returning
day. This increased his apprehension.

"I must get away from here," he thought, "or I shall be discovered
and taken."