now very near a branch, and that the
branch ought to make a slight gap in the woods and a little more light.
He whispered back that there was, he thought, more light in our front
than there had been before. I now tried to discern this new light, and
could not at first, but after a little while it did seem to me that just
ahead there was a dim gray streak.

I made one step forward--paused--then another step; another, and I felt
my foot in the water. The gray streak had widened. I made a step back,
and caught Allen by the hand. Then I went forward, holding Allen's
hand. But I wanted to speak to Allen, and feared to do so. We went back
again, some three steps, until I was out of the water.

Allen was always a little in my rear, even when we were hand-in-hand. He
whispered, "It is ten steps wide."

"Can you see across it?"

"I think so. I think the trees are lower over there."

In all my experience as a soldier I think that I never felt myself in a
more critical place. The opposite side of the branch was an ideal
position for the rebel vedettes. They ought to be there if anywhere in
these woods. Still, they, as well as we, might have neglected their
opportunity; besides, their line might be bent back here; their vedettes
might be on the branch farther to our right, and _here_ might be
anywhere in its rear; we did not know where the rebel right rested. Of
one thing I felt sure--the rebels did not intend to advance on this
night, for in that case they would have had their vedettes, and their
pickets also, if possible, on our side of the branch.

The thing had to be done. I must risk crossing the branch. If vedettes
were on it, it was just within the possible that I might pass between
two of them.

I whispered to Allen that I wanted a stick; he already had one, which he
put into my hand. Then I told him to take hold of my coat, lest my foot
should slip; the noise of a splash, might have caused utter failure, if
not our capture.

We reached the water again. I felt before me. The end of the stick
seemed to sink into soft mud.

I made another step forward. I was up to my ankles in mud, up to my
knees in water.

I made another step; the water rose to my thighs.

Again a step; the water was no deeper, and I felt no mud under my feet.
I thought I had reached the middle.

I paused and listened. I was afraid to speak to Allen. The same
monotonous dropping of water--nothing more.

We went forward, and got to the farth