we must be drawing near the river, yet the night was so
dark, and our passage so rapid, I could make out no familiar landmarks
through my peep-hole. Indeed I had about all I could do to hold on. We
were halted twice, but a word from the officer passed us along safely.
One picket-post had a fire glowing in close against the rocks, and the
sergeant stood within a foot of me. I caught the word "Cumberland," but
whatever else of explanation may have been uttered failed to reach my
ears, muffled as they were beneath the canvas. A few hundred yards
beyond this point, at the end of a deep cut, the officer drew up his
horse sharply, leaned over the wheel, and shook hands with the
person inside.

"I have attained my limit," he said. "That was our last picket-post back
yonder, and my orders were strict. You know the road, of course."

"Perfectly, Lieutenant," responded a low voice, muffled under the hood.
"I have travelled it often before. I thank you so much, and think it
will all come out right this time."

"I have no doubt of that," he replied, with a little laugh. "Hope I may
renew the acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances. Meanwhile,
good luck and good-bye."

He sat erect upon his horse, watching as we clattered past, appearing
scarcely more than a dim shadow, yet I thought he held his hat in his
hand. Billie laid on the gad, however, as if to make up for lost time,
and the pony trotted off at such a burst of speed as to keep me busy
clinging to my perch. It was an exceedingly rough road, rutty and stony,
up hill and down, while the pony condescended to walk on the steepest
grades only, and occasionally took the declines at a gallop, the
carryall bounding from side to side as though mad. Apparently no fear of
possible disaster disturbed Billie, however, for I could hear every few
moments the slash of a whip on the animal's flank. I knew that, by this
time, we must certainly be well between the lines, but, for the life of
me, could not determine where. I thought I knew the surrounding country
as I had scouted over it for months, tracing roads and bridle-paths, yet
I was puzzled now. If this road continued to run north and south, as it
had back yonder, then we should have forded the river long before this,
yet we had splashed through no water, nor did I recall our making
any turn.

One fact alone seemed certain: as I knew neither where we were, nor
whither bound, and as we were already assuredly beyond the last