and was at that hour hemming in Chad's unsuspicious regiment, whose
camp was on the other side of town, and unless he could give warning,
Morgan would drop like a thunderbolt on it, asleep. He must circle the
town now to get around the rebel posts, and that meant several miles
more for Dixie.

He stopped and reached down to feel the little mare's flanks. Dixie
drew a long breath and dropped her muzzle to tear up a rich mouthful of
bluegrass.

"Oh, you beauty!" said the boy, "you wonder!" And on he went, through
woodland and field, over gully, log, and fence, bullets ringing after
him from nearly every road he crossed.

Morgan was near. In disguise, when Bragg retreated, he had got
permission to leave Kentucky in his own way. That meant wheeling and
making straight back to Lexington to surprise the Fourth Ohio Cavalry;
representing himself on the way, one night, as his old enemy Wolford,
and being guided a short cut through the edge of the Bluegrass by an
ardent admirer of the Yankee Colonel--the said admirer giving Morgan
the worst tirade possible, meanwhile, and nearly tumbling from his
horse when Morgan told him who he was and sarcastically advised him to
make sure next time to whom he paid his compliments.

So that while Chad, with the precious message under his jacket, and
Dixie were lightly thundering along the road, Morgan's Men were
gobbling up pickets around Lexington and making ready for an attack on
the sleeping camp at dawn.

The dawn was nearly breaking now, and Harry Dean was pacing to and fro
before the old CourtHouse where Dan and Rebel Jerry lay under
guard--pacing to and fro and waiting for his mother and sister to come
to say the last good-by to the boy--for Harry had given up hope and had
sent for them. At that very hour Richard Hunt was leading his regiment
around the Ashland woods where the enemy lay; another regiment was
taking its place between the camp and the town, and gray figures were
slipping noiselessly on the provost-guard that watched the rebel
prisoners who were waiting for death at sunrise. As the dawn broke, the
dash came, and Harry Dean was sick at heart as he sharply rallied the
startled guard to prevent the rescue of his own brother and straightway
delirious with joy when he saw the gray mass sweeping on him and knew
that he would fail. A few shots rang out; the far rattle of musketry
rose between the camp and town; the thunder of the "Bull Pups" saluted
the coming light, and D