's thought, but he said no more until they
reached the creek, which was indeed swollen by the heavy rains, and was
running swiftly, a full ten feet in depth.

"Hold on, Billy, I'll lead the way," said Harry.

But Billy was already in the stream, his short legs drawn up, and his
horse swimming strongly. Harry and Dalton followed without a word, and
the three emerged safely on the eastern side.

"You're a brave swimmer, Billy," said Harry admiringly.

"'Tain't nothin, sir. I didn't swim. It was my horse. I guess he'd take
me across the Mississippi itself. I wouldn't have anything to do but
stick on his back. Look up, sir, an' you can see the mountains close
by."

Harry and Dalton looked up through the rift in the trees, and saw almost
over them the lofty outline of the Blue Ridge, the eastern rampart of
the valley, heavy with forest from base to top.

"We must be near the Gap," said Dalton.

"We are," said Billy. "We've been coming fast. It's nigh on to fifteen
miles from here to home."

"And must be a full thirty to Harper's Ferry," said Dalton.

"Does this path lead to some point overlooking the Gap," asked Harry,
"where we can see the enemy if he's there, and he can't see us?"

"Yes, sir. We can ride on a slope not more than two miles from here and
look right down into the Gap."

"And if troops are there we'll be sure to see their fires," said Dalton.
"Lead on, Billy."

Billy led with boldness and certainty. It was the greatest night of his
life, and he meant to fulfill to the utmost what he deemed to be his
duty. The narrow path still wound among mighty trees, the branches of
which met now and then over their heads, shutting out the moonlight
entirely. It led at this point toward the north and they were rapidly
ascending a shoulder of the mountain, leaving the Gap on their right.

Harry, riding on such an errand, felt to the full the weird quality
of mountains and forest, over which darkness and silence brooded. The
foliage was very heavy, and it rustled now and then as the stray winds
wandered along the slopes of the Blue Ridge. But for that and the
hoofbeats of their own horses, there was no sound save once, when they
heard a scuttling on the bark of a tree. They saw nothing, but Billy
pronounced it a wildcat, alarmed by their passage.

The three at length came out on a level place or tiny plateau. Billy,
who rode in advance, stopped and the others stopped with him.

"Look," said the boy, pointing