"Sergeant," I asked, flinging aside the improvised brush, "how far do
you suppose we are from Longstreet's picket line?"

"Ten miles at the very best, sir," he answered promptly, "an' I reckon
with another Yankee outpost atween."

"With fair luck and good riding it might be made by daylight?"

"I reckon as how it might, Captain, if we only hed sum fresh hosses,"
he said glumly; "but it's bin mighty hard on my nag; I've looked fer
him to roll over like yer sorrel did fer the las' two mile."

"Well, Craig, you shall have both horses. Ride the woman's, it is the
fresher of the two; but you are to get through if you kill them both
and then walk."

His face brightened, and he raised his hand in salute.

"And you?" he asked wonderingly.

"I remain with the woman; there is no other way. Wait here a moment
while I speak with her."

I left him standing there, and moved back to where she waited. As I
came up she faced me, and for the first time (for the night had
lightened somewhat) I could see her eyes and discern some faint outline
of her face where the night wind flung back the upturned cape. It was a
winsome sight to soldier vision, but with a certain semblance of pride
and reserve about it that caused a hesitancy in my speech strange
enough to me. I felt oddly like a bashful boy, and involuntarily lifted