But Harry waved him back.

"No," he said. "I'll be shot at, and the boy on foot can't escape.
I'll find my way through. No, I tell you he must not go!"

He almost pushed back the boy who was eager for the task, rode out of the
wood which was on the slope of the hill away from the point of attack,
and gained the fringe of timber along the creek. It was about fifty
yards from cover to cover, but he believed he had not been seen, as
neither shout nor shot followed him.

Yet the Union pickets could not be far away. He had seen enough to know
that the besiegers were disciplined men led by able officers and they
would certainly make a cordon about the whole Southern position.

He rode his horse into a dense clump of trees and paused to listen.
He heard nothing but the faint murmur of the creek, and the occasional
rustle of dry branches as puffs of wind passed. He dismounted for the
sake of caution and silence as far as possible, and led his horse down
the fringe of trees, always keeping well under cover.

Another hundred yards and he stopped again to listen. All those old
inherited instincts and senses leaped into life. He was, for the moment,
the pioneer lad, seeking to detect the ambush of his foe. Now, his acute
ears caught the hostile sound. It was low, merely the footsteps of a man,
steadily walking back and forth.

Harry peeped from his covert and saw a Union sentinel not far away,
pacing his beat, rifle on shoulder, the point of the bayonet tipped with
silver flame from the moon. And he saw further on another sentinel,