mpered more or less by the irregularity of
the different commands, I had ample time in which to outline the night's
adventure. I comprehended fully the danger of the mission, and that the
probability was strongly against success. Reckless audacity, coupled
with rare good fortune, might result in our return with the prisoner
sought, but it was far more likely that we would be the ones captured,
if we escaped with our lives. Yet this knowledge caused no hesitancy on
my part; I was trained to obedience, and deep down in my heart welcomed
the opportunity. The excitement appealed to me, and the knowledge that
this service was to be performed directly under the eye of the great
General of the West, was in itself an inspiration. If I lived to come
back it meant promotion, the praise of the army, a line on the page of
history--enough surely to arouse the ambition of youth.

It was early in the afternoon when I reached the position of my
regiment, and reported to the colonel, asking the privilege of selecting
a detail. Then, as I sat at mess, I studied my men, mentally picking
from among them those best adapted to the desperate task. I chose those
I had seen in action, young, unmarried fellows, and for "non-com,"
Sergeant Miles, a slender, silent man of thirty, in whom I had implicit
confidence. I checked the names over, satisfying myself I had made no
mistake. Leaving Miles to notify these fellows, and prepare them for
service, I crossed to the colonel's tent in search of the ex-slave. He
was easily found.

"Le Gaire," I began, choking a bit at the name, "do you remember a big
white house, on the right of the pike, the first beyond a log church,
south from the Three Corners?"

He looked up from his work with sparkling eyes.

"I suah does; I reckon I could find dat place in de dark."

"Well, that is exactly what I want you to do, my man. I have some work
to do there to-night."

"How yo' goin' to git dar?"

I explained about the ravine, the positions of the Confederate lines,
and where I understood the special guards were stationed. The boy
listened in silence, his fingers, clinching and unclinching, alone
evidencing excitement.

"Will that plan work?" I asked, "or can you suggest any better way?"

"I reckon it'll work," he admitted, "if yo' don't git cotched afore yo'
git dar. I knows a heap 'bout dat ravine; I'se hunted rabbits dar many a
time, an' it ain't goin' to be no easy job gittin' through dar in
de dark."