water he seemed to be dead, and
Tom was forced to the conclusion that he had killed him. He had done the
deed in self-defence, and in the strict line of duty. He could not be
blamed even by his enemies for the act. He felt no exultation, and hoped
from the bottom of his heart that the man was prepared to meet his Maker,
into whose presence he had been so suddenly summoned.

Tom had heard the boys in Pinchbrook talk lightly about killing rebels,
and he had talked so himself; but the reality was not so pleasant as it
had seemed at a distance. He was sorry for the poor fellow, and wished he
had not been obliged to kill him. It was terrible to him, even in battle,
to take a human life, to slay a being created in the image of God, and for
whom Christ lived and died.

While he was indulging in these sad reflections, he heard a bullet whistle
near his head. The Secesh soldier on the shore had loaded up his
companions' muskets, and was doing his best to bring down the lucky
fugitive. His last shot was not a bad one, and Tom could not help
thinking, if the grayback should hit him, that he would not waste any fine
feelings over him. He did not like the sound of those whizzing bullets,
and as he had never boasted of his courage, he did not scorn to adopt
precautionary measures. The water was three inches deep in the bottom of
the bateau; but Tom deemed it prudent to lie down there until the current
should bear him out of the reach of the rebel bullets.

He maintained this recumbent posture for half an hour or more, listening
to the balls that frequently whistled over his head. Once he ventured to
raise his head, and discovered, not one man, but a dozen, on the shore,
which accounted for the rapid firing he heard. When he looked up again,
his bateau had passed round a bend, and he was no longer exposed to the
fire of the enemy.

From his heart Tom thanked God for his escape. He was religiously grateful
for the aid which Providence had rendered him, and when he thought how
near he had stood to the brink of destruction, he realized how narrow the
span between the Here and the Hereafter. And the moral of his reflections
was, that if he stood so near to the open gate of death, he ought always
to live wisely and well, and ever be prepared to pass the portals which
separate time from eternity.

Tom's thoughts were sad and heavy. He could not banish from his mind the
face of the rebel, as he raised his hand to his breast, where he ha