oward, but his courage was only that of the average civilized
man, and he was looking to live, not die.

Up a small hillside he followed a cowpath through such dense scrub that
he was forced to dismount and lead his horse. But when the path swung
around to the west, he abandoned it and headed to the north again along
the oak-covered top of the ridge.

The ridge ended in a steep descent-so steep that he zigzagged back and
forth across the face of the slope, sliding and stumbling among the dead
leaves and matted vines and keeping a watchful eye on the horse above
that threatened to fall down upon him. The sweat ran from him, and the
pollen-dust, settling pungently in mouth and nostrils, increased
his thirst. Try as he would, nevertheless the descent was noisy, and
frequently he stopped, panting in the dry heat and listening for any
warning from beneath.

At the bottom he came out on a flat, so densely forested that he could
not make out its extent. Here the character of the woods changed, and he
was able to remount. Instead of the twisted hillside oaks, tall straight
trees, big-trunked and prosperous, rose from the damp fat soil. Only
here and there were thickets, easily avoided, while he encountered
winding, park-like glades where the cattle had pastured in the days
before war had run them off.

His progress was more rapid now, as he came down into the valley, and at
the end of half an hour he halted at an ancient rail fence on the edge
of a clearing. He did not like the openness of it, yet his path lay
across to the fringe of trees that marked the banks of the stream.
It was a mere quarter of a mile across that open, but the thought of
venturing out in it was repugnant. A rifle, a score of them, a thousand,
might lurk in that fringe by the stream.

Twice he essayed to start, and twice he paused. He was appalled by his
own loneliness. The pulse of war that beat from the West suggested the
companionship of battling thousands; here was naught but silence, and
himself, and possible death-dealing bullets from a myriad ambushes. And
yet his task was to find what he feared to find. He must on, and on,
till somewhere, some time, he encountered another man, or other men,
from the other side, scouting, as he was scouting, to make report, as he
must make report, of having come in touch.

Changing his mind, he skirted inside the woods for a distance, and again
peeped forth. This time, in the middle of the clearing, he saw a