e him.
Down there under the southern horizon were the long lines of his own
people, and toward Washington, but much nearer to him, were the lines
of a detachment of the Northern army. Between, he caught the flash of
water from Bull Run, Young's Branch and the lesser streams. Behind the
Northern force the sun glinted on a long line of bayonets and he knew
that it was made by a regiment marching to join the others. The
spectacle, with all the somber aspects of war, softened by the distance,
was inspiring. Harry drew a long breath and then another. It was in
truth more like a spectacle than war's actuality. He counted five
colonial houses, white and pillared, standing among green trees and
shrubbery. Smoke was rising from their chimneys, as if the people who
lived in them were going about their peaceful occupations.

He turned back into the forest, and rode until he came to its end,
two or three miles further on. Here the brook darted down through
pasture land to merge its waters finally into those of Bull Run.
Harry left it regretfully. It had been a good comrade with its pleasant
chatter over the pebbles.

Two miles of open country lay before him, and beyond was another cloak
of trees. He decided to ride for the forest, and remain there until
dark. He would not then be more than fifteen miles from Washington,
and he could make the remaining distance under the cover of darkness.
He followed a narrow road between two fields, in one of which he saw a
farmer ploughing, an old man, gnarled and knotty, whose mind seemed bent
wholly upon his work. He was ploughing young corn, and although he
could not keep from seeing Harry, he took no apparent notice of him.

The boy rode on, but the picture of the grim old man ploughing between
the two armies lingered with him. The fence enclosing the two fields
was high, staked, and ridered, and presently he was glad of it. He
beheld on a hill to his right, about a half mile away, four horsemen,
and the color of their uniforms was blue. He bent low over his horse
that they might not see him, and rode on, the pulses in his temples
beating heavily. He was glad that gray was not an assertive color,
and he was glad that his own gray had been faded by the hot June sun.

Half way to the protecting wood he saw one of the men on the hill,
undoubtedly an officer, put glasses to his eyes. Harry was sure at
first that he had been discovered, but the man turned the glasses on
Beaure