er effort,
and ran a little faster, knowing full well that his life was at stake.

The fire was like a huge beast, and it reached out threatening red claws
to catch him. He was like primeval man, fleeing from one of the vast
monsters, now happily gone from the earth. He was conscious soon that
another not far from him was running in the same way, a man in a faded
blue uniform who had dropped his rifle in the rapidity of his flight.

Harry kept one eye on him but the stranger did not see him until they
were nearly out of the wood. Then Harry, with a clear purpose in view,
veered toward him. He saw that they would escape from the fire. Open
fields showed not far ahead, and while the sparks were numerous and
sometimes scorched, the roaring red monster behind them would soon be at
the end of his race. He could not follow them into the open fields.

When the two emerged from the forest Harry was not more than fifteen feet
from the stranger, who evidently took him for a friend and who was glad
to have a comrade at such a time. They raced across fields in which the
wheat had been cut, and then sank down four or five hundred yards from
the fire, which was crackling and roaring in the woods with great
violence, and sending up leaping flames.

"I was glad enough to get out of that. Do you think the rebels set it on
fire?"

"I don't think so, but I was as pleased as you to escape from it,
Mr. Haskell."

"Why, how did you know my name?" exclaimed the man in wonder.

"Why should I forget you? I've seen you often enough. Your name is John
Haskell and you belong to the Fifth Pennsylvania."

"That's right, but I don't seem to recall you."

"It takes a lot of us some time to clear up our minds wholly after such a
battle as Gettysburg. In some ways I've been in a sort of confused state
myself. I dare say you've seen me often enough."

"That's likely."

"Pity you had your horse shot under you, Mr. Haskell. A man who is
carrying important messages at a time like this can't do very well
without his horse."

"How did you know I'd lost my horse?"

"Oh, I'm a mind reader. I can tell you a lot now. You carry your
dispatch in the left-hand pocket of your waistcoat, just over your heart.
And it hasn't been long, either, since you lost your horse, perhaps not
more than an hour."

Haskell stared at him, but Harry's face was innocent. Nevertheless he
had read Haskell's name and regiment on his canteen, cut there with