carefulness again cost me a little time,
perhaps, for I found a path, and took it, going with great caution for a
furlong, to find that it entered a larger road. If I had not taken this
path, I should have soon reached this good road at its junction, and
time would have been saved by increased speed; yet I did not blame
myself, and went on with renewed hope and faster, for although the moon
was getting far down the sky, my road was good and was running straight
toward my end.

But at length, as I was going over a sandy stretch, I heard hoof-beats
behind me, and the sound grew, and I knew that some night rider was
following fast. What is he? A rebel or a Federal? Loud ring the strokes
of the horse's irons and louder behind me; I must run or I must
slip aside.

I chose to let him pass. To be pursued would have been to throw up the
game; all then would have been lost. I left the road and hid in the
shadowy woods. On came the rider, and as the thundering hoofs hit the
road within ten paces of my stand, I saw again the black horse belly to
the ground in the moonlight.

Almost at once I started in pursuit. I would keep this man before me; if
he should run upon rebels, the alarm would reach me; so long as he
should be in my front, safety for me was at the front and danger
elsewhere. I pursued, keeping within sight where the road stretches were
long, going slowly where the ground was hard, lest the noise of my
approach should be heard. Yet I had no difficulty; the courier was
straining every nerve to reach his destination, and regarded not his
rear. He crossed roads in haste, and by this I knew that the road was to
him familiar; he paused never, but kept his horse at an even gallop
through forest and through field, while I followed by jerks, making my
horse run at times, and again, fearing I was too near, bringing him back
to slower speed. For miles I followed the black horse.

But now I saw that the night was further spent than I had supposed;
light was coming behind me, and the moon was low in the west. How far to
the end? The black horse is going more slowly; he has gone many weary
miles more than mine has gone; his rider is urging him to the utmost; I
can see him dig his spurs again and again into the sides of the noble
beast, and see him strike, and I see him turn where the road turns ahead
of me, and I ride faster to recover him; and now I see black smoke
rising at my right hand, and I hear the whistle of the Union s