ade no long opposition, and the countryman with the
non-partisan horses was engaged to take them to Peterson's Mill. For
this part of the road no escort was required. They travelled in the
wagon for ten miles. Here the man stopped, took the harness from the
horses, replaced it with two side-saddles which he had brought with him,
drew the wagon into a ravine safely out of sight, effaced the trace of
the wheels, and then wiping his forehead after his exertions, announced
that he was ready. Anne had never been on horseback in her life. Mary
Crane, who would have mounted a camel imperturbably if it came into the
line of her business, climbed up sturdily by the aid of a stump, and
announced that she felt herself "quite solid." The horse seemed to agree
with her. Anne followed her example, and being without physical
nervousness, she soon became accustomed to the motion, and even began to
imagine how exhilarating it would be to ride rapidly over a broad plain,
feeling the wind on her face as she flew along. But the two old brown
horses had no idea of flying. They toiled patiently every day, and
sometimes at night as well, now for one army, now for the other; but
nothing could make them quicken their pace. In the present case they
were not asked to do it, since the road was but a bridle-path through
the ravines and over the hills which formed the flank of the mountains
they were approaching, and the driver was following them on foot. The
ascents grew steeper, the ravines deeper and wilder.

"I no longer see the mountains," said Anne.

"That's because you're in 'em," answered the driver.

At night-fall they reached their destination. It was a small mountain
mill, in a little green valley which nestled confidingly among the wild
peaks as though it was not afraid of their roughness. Within were the
fever patients, and the tired surgeon and his still more tired assistant
could hardly believe their good fortune when the two nurses appeared.
The assistant, a tall young medical student who had not yet finished
growing, made his own bed of hay and a coverlet so hungrily in a dusky
corner that Anne could not help smiling; the poor fellow was fairly
gaunt from loss of sleep, and had been obliged to walk up and down
during the whole of the previous night to keep himself awake. The
surgeon, who was older and more hardened, explained to Mary Crane the
condition of the men, and gave her careful directions for the night;
then he too disappe