led, and the soldier in front
turned and discovered me. I was now more than ever determined on getting
away. After a hurried conference with Lieutenant Byers, at which I
promised to wait at our rendezvous in the woods until I heard the
posting of the ten-o'clock relief, I proceeded alone up the side of the
camp to a point where a group of low cedars grew close to the dead-line.
Concealing myself in their dark shadow, I could observe at my leisure
the movements of the sentinels. A full moon was just rising above the
horizon to my left, and in the soft, misty light the guards were plainly
visible for a long distance either way. An open field from which the
small growth had been recently cut away lay beyond, and between the camp
and the guard-line ran a broad road of soft sand--noiseless to cross,
but so white in the moonlight that a leaf blown across it by the wind
could scarcely escape a vigilant eye. The guards were bundled in their
overcoats, and I soon observed that the two who met opposite to my place
of concealment turned and walked their short beats without looking back.
Waiting until they separated again, and regardless of the fact that I
might with equal likelihood be seen by a dozen sentinels in either
direction, I ran quickly across the soft sand road several yards into
the open field, and threw myself down upon the uneven ground. First I
dragged my body on my elbows for a few yards, then I crept on my knees,
and so gradually gained in distance until I could rise to a standing
position and get safely to the shelter of the trees. With some
difficulty I found the cups and blankets we had concealed, and lay down
to await the arrival of my companion. Soon I heard several shots which
I understood too well; and, as I afterward learned, two officers were
shot dead for attempting the feat I had accomplished, and perhaps in
emulation of my success. A third young officer, whom I knew, was also
killed in camp by one of the shots fired at the others.

At ten o'clock I set out alone and made my way across the fields to the
bank of the Saluda, where a covered bridge crossed to Columbia. Hiding
when it was light, wandering through fields and swamps by night, and
venturing at last to seek food of negroes, I proceeded for thirteen days
toward the sea.

In general I had followed the Columbia turnpike; at a quaint little
chapel on the shore of Goose Creek, but a few miles out of Charleston, I
turned to the north and bent my cour