ing what a
tremendous luxury it was to be a man and to stand upon one's own feet.

He had triumphed again! The stars surely were with him. They might play
little tricks upon him now and then to tantalize him, but in the more
important matters they were on his side. He stretched himself again and
again to relieve the terrible stiffness caused by such long and painful
crawling, and then, unable to resist an exultant impulse, he called
loudly:

"Good-by, Haskell!"

There was a startled exclamation and a bullet fired at random cut the
leaves twenty yards away. Harry, making no reply, fled swiftly through
the forest toward the valley where the rebel raiders rode.

CHAPTER VII

IN THE WAGON

He ran at first, reckless of impediments, and there was a sound of
crashing as he sped through the bushes. He was not in the least afraid
of Haskell. He had his rifle and pistols and in the woods he was
infinitely the superior. He did not even believe that Haskell would
pursue, but he wanted to get far beyond any possible Federal sentinels
as soon as possible.

After a flight of a few hundred yards he slackened speed, and began to go
silently. The old instincts and skill of the forester returned to him.
He knew that he was safe from immediate pursuit and now he would approach
his own lines carefully. He was grateful for the chance or series of
chances that always took him toward Lee. It seemed now that his enemies
had merely succeeded in driving him at an increased pace in the way he
wanted to go.

He was descending a slope, thickly clothed with undergrowth. A few
hundred yards farther his knees suddenly crumpled under him and he sank
down, seized at the same time with a fit of nervous trembling. He had
passed through so many ordeals that strong and seasoned as he was and
high though his spirits, the collapse came all at once. He knew what was
the matter and, quietly stretching himself out, he lay still that the
spell might pass.

The lonesome owl, probably the same one that he had heard earlier,
began to hoot, and now it was near by. Harry thought he could make out
its dim figure on a branch and he was sure that the red eyes, closed by
day, were watching him, doubtless with a certain contempt at his weakness.

"Old man, if you had been chased by the fowler as often as I have,"
were the words behind his teeth, addressed to the dim and fluffy figure,
"you wouldn't be sitting up there so calm and cocky. Y