etaliate by offering me the bravest venture that man
ever conceived. I am with you with all my heart. By God, sir, I am sick
of my cushioned life. This is what I have been longing for in my soul
since I was born...."

That night I spent making ready. I took no servant, and in my
saddle-bags was stored the little I needed. Of powder and shot I had
plenty, and my two pistols and my hunting musket. I gave Faulkner
instructions, and wrote a letter to my uncle to be sent if I did not
return. Next morning at daybreak we took the road.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FORD OF THE RAPIDAN.

'Twas the same high summer weather through which I had ridden a
fortnight ago with a dull heart on my way to the duel. Now Grey rode by
my side, and my spirits were as light as a bird's. I had forgotten the
grim part of the enterprise, the fate that might await me, the horrors
we should certainly witness. I thought only of the joys of movement
into new lands with tried companions. These last months I had borne a
pretty heavy weight of cares. Now that was past. My dispositions
completed, the thing was in the hands of God, and I was free to go my
own road. Mocking-birds and thrushes cried in the thickets, squirrels
flirted across the path, and now and then a shy deer fled before us.
There come moments to every man when he is thankful to be alive, and
every breath drawn is a delight; so at that hour I praised my Maker for
His good earth, and for sparing me to rejoice in it.

Grey had met me with a certain shyness; but as the sun rose and the
land grew bright he, too, lost his constraint, and fell into the same
happy mood. Soon we were smiling at each other in the frankest
comradeship, we two who but the other day had carried ourselves like
game-cocks. He had forgotten his fine manners and his mincing London
voice, and we spoke of the outland country of which he knew nothing,
and of the hunting of game of which he knew much, exchanging our
different knowledges, and willing to learn from each other. Long ere we
had reached York Ferry I had found that there was much in common
between the Scots trader and the Virginian cavalier, and the chief
thing we shared was youth.

Mine, to be sure, was more in the heart, while Grey wore his open and
fearless. He plucked the summer flowers and set them in his hat. He was
full of catches and glees, so that he waked the echoes in the forest
glades. Soon I, too, fell to singing in my tuneless voice, and I
answere