can it be a sentry at last? A cautious step forward, a low laugh from the Sergeant, and we circle the gaunt, blackened stump, as silent ourselves as the night about us, but with fiercely beating, expectant hearts.
But hark! Surely that was no common sound, born of that drear loneliness! No cavalryman can mistake the jingle of accoutrements or the dull thud of horses' hoofs. The road here must have curved sharply, for they were already so close upon us that, almost simultaneously with the sound, we could distinguish the deeper shadow of a small, compact body of horsemen directly in our front. To left of us there rose, sheer and black, the precipitous rock; to right we might not even guess what yawning void. It was either wit or sword-play now.
I know not how it may be with others in such emergencies, but with me it always happens that the sense of fear departs with the presence of actual danger. Before the gruesome fancies of imagination I may quake and burn like any maiden alone upon a city street at night, until each separate nerve becomes a very demon of mental agony; but when the real and known once fairly confronts me, and there is work to do, I grow instantly cool to think, resolute to act, and find a rare joy in it. It was so now, and, revolver in hand but hidden beneath my holster flap, I leaned over and touched Craig's arm.
“Keep quiet,” I whispered sternly. “Let them challenge first, and no firing except on my order.”
Almost with the words there came the sharp hail:
“Halt! Who comes there?”
I drew the cape of my riding-jacket closer, so as better to muffle the sound of my voice.
“Friends, of course; who would you expect to meet on this road?”
Fortune seemed with me in the chance answer, for he who had hailed exclaimed:
“Oh! is that you, Brennan?”
There was no time now for hesitancy; here was my cue, and I must plunge ahead, accepting the chances. I ventured it.
“No; Brennan couldn't come. I am here in his place.”
“Indeed! Who are you?”
“Major Wilkie.”
There was a moment's painful pause, in which I could hear my heart throb.
“Wilkie,” repeated the voice, doubtfully. “There is no officer of that name in the Forty-third.”
“Well, there chances to be such an officer on the staff,” I retorted, permitting a trace of anger to appear in my tone, “and I am the man.”
“What the devil is the difference, Hale, just what his name is?” boomed a deeper voice back in the group. “We are not getting up a directory of the Sixth Corps. Of course he's the man Brennan sent, and that is all we've got to look after.”
“Oh, all right, certainly, Major,” returned the first speaker, hastily. “But the night is so cussed black I supposed we must be at least a mile this side of where we were to meet. However, we have the lady here for you all right, and she is anxious enough to get on.”
The lady! Heavens! What odd turn of fortune's wheel was this? The lady! I heard Craig's smothered chuckle, but before I had sufficiently regained control over my own feelings to venture upon a suitable reply, the entire party had drawn forward, the leader pressing so close to my side that I felt safer with my face well shaded.
“Where is your escort, Major?” he asked, and the gruffness of his tone put me instantly on defence.
“Just behind us,” I returned, with affected carelessness, and determined now to play out the game, lady or no lady. I was extremely sorry for her, but the cause outweighed her comfort. “The Sergeant and I rode out ahead when we heard you coming. Where is the lady?”
He glanced around at the group huddled behind him.
“Third on the left.”
“All right, then. Nothing else, I believe”; for I was eager to get away. “Sergeant, just ride in there and lead, out her horse. We will have to be moving, gentlemen, for it is a rough road and a dark night.”
“Beastly,” assented the other, heartily.
I fairly held my breath as Craig rode forward. If one of them should chance to strike a match to light a pipe, or any false movement of Craig's should excite suspicion! If he should even speak, his soft Southern drawl would mean instant betrayal. And how coolly he went at it; with a sharp touch of the spur, causing his jaded horse to exhibit such sudden restlessness as to keep the escort well to one side, while he ranged close up to our unwelcome guest, and laying firm hand upon her horse's bit, led forth to where I waited. It was quickly, nobly done, and I could have hugged the fellow.
“Well, good luck to you, Major, and a pleasant ride. Remember me to Brennan. Deuced queer, though, why he failed to show up on such an occasion as this.”
“He was unfortunate enough to be sent out in the other direction with despatches—good-night, gentlemen.”
It was sweet music to me to listen to their hoof-beats dying rapidly away behind us as we turned back down the dark road, the Sergeant still riding with his one hand grasping the stranger's rein. I endeavored to scan her figure in the blackness, but found the effort useless, as little more than a shadow was visible. Yet it was impressed upon me that she sat straight and firm in the saddle, so I concluded she must be young. Rapidly I reviewed our predicament, and sought for some avenue of escape. If we were only certain as to where we were, we might plan with better prospect of success. The woman? Doubtless she would know, and possibly I might venture to question her without awakening suspicion. Surely the experiment was well worth trying.
“Madam,” I began, seeking to feel my way with caution into her confidence, “I fear you must be quite wearied by your long ride.”
She turned slightly at sound of my voice.
“Not at all, sir; I am merely eager to push on. Besides, my ride has not been a long one, as we merely came from General Sigel's headquarters.”
The voice was pleasantly modulated and refined.
“Ah, yes, certainly,” I stammered, fearful lest I had made a grave mistake. “But really I had supposed General Sigel was at Coultersville.”
“He advanced to Bear Creek yesterday,” she returned quietly. “So you see we had covered scarcely more than three miles when we met. How much farther is it to where Major Brennan is stationed?”
I fear I was guilty of hesitancy, but it was only for a moment.
“I am unable to tell exactly, for, as it chances, I have never yet been in the camp, but I should judge that two hours' riding will cover the distance.”
“Why,” in a tone of sudden surprise, “Captain Hale certainly told me it was all of twenty miles!”
“From Bear Creek?” I questioned eagerly, for it was my turn to feel startled now. “The map barely makes it ten.”
“It is but ten, and scarcely that, by the direct White Briar road, or, at least, so I heard some of the younger officers say; but it seems the Rebel pickets are posted so close to the White Briar that my friends decided
