ce to the point from which he proposed to operate. On his right hand
there was a dense wood, on the border of which extended one of the
numerous cross-roads that checker the country. On his left was another
piece of woods, terminating in a point about a quarter of a mile from the
road and in the center of a valley.

On the hill beyond was the intrenched line of the rebels. In front of it,
at the foot of the slope, was a line of rifle-pits, which were occupied
by the rebel pickets. The hill and the woods concealed the operations of
the enemy; and no signal station was high enough to obtain the necessary
information. The woods on both sides of the open space were picketed by
the rebels; and the rifle-pits in front were an effectual check to the
advance of a small force, while a large one could not be sent up without
bringing on a general engagement, which had been prohibited by the
commanding general.

Lieutenant Somers surveyed the ground, and came to the conclusion that
his chance of spending the night in Libby Prison was better than his
chance of being made a first lieutenant. The rifle-pits had a chilling
effect upon the fine dreams in which his fancy had indulged. He was not a
grub, and could not burrow through the earth to the rebel lines; he had
no wings, and could not fly over them. The obstacles which are so easily
overcome in one's dreams appear mountain-high in real life. He looked
troubled and anxious; but, having put his hand to the plow, he was
determined not to turn back.

The best way to conquer a difficulty is to charge upon it; and this
Somers decided to do, even though he had no well-defined plan for the
accomplishment of his purpose. Avoiding the observation of the rebels in
the rifle-pits, he moved round, and reached the point of woods on the
left of the road.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Somers," said Sergeant Hapgood with a military
salute: "'tain't none o' my business, but I'd like to know where you are
goin' to."

"Through this woods," replied Somers doggedly.

"You used to be a good boy, when you was a boy; and I hope you've said
your prayers," replied old Hapgood, appalled at the prospect before his
young friend.

"Don't you croak, uncle," added Somers.

"The rebels' pickets are up here, not twenty rods distant. Do you
calculate to go through them, or over them?"

"Either--just as I can; but I am going through, somehow or other."

"It can't be done! Thunderation! you'll bring down the who