ially the Twelfth; the
Forty-fifth was at Goldsborough, but not in our brigade."

We reached the street of the Seventh. I stepped aside. "I stop here,"
said I.

"Well," said he, "I'm much obleeged to you for showin' me that
branch--that branch that belongs to Branch's brigade," and he went
his way.

And now I tried to take some rest. I thought it more prudent to stay at
one of the camp-fires, fearing that if I concealed myself I should be
stumbled upon and suspected, so I went up to one of the fires of the
Twenty-eighth, wrapped my gum-blanket around me and lay down. But I
found it impossible to sleep. The newness of the experience and the
danger of the situation drove sleep as far from me as the east is from
the west. I believe that in romances it is the proper thing to say that
a man in trying situations sleeps the sleep of the infant; but this is
not romance. I could not sleep.

Some time before day a man lying near my fire stretched himself and sat
up. I watched him from the corner of my eye. I wanted no conversation
with him; I was afraid he might question me too closely, and that my
replies would not prove satisfactory to him. I kept quiet; I knew
enough--too much to risk losing.

Suddenly he looked toward me. I was afraid that he had become aware of a
foreign element thrown into his environment. My fears were confirmed. He
opened his mouth and said, "Who--in--the--hell--that--is." The utterance
was an assertion rather than an inquiry. I made no response. He
continued to look at me--shook his head--nodded it--then fell back and
went to sleep.

To make sure that he was fast, I waited awhile; then I rose and made my
way back to a spot near the wagon train, far in the rear. It must have
been after three o'clock. The teamsters had finished feeding their
mules. Soon two of them began to hitch up their teams; then, with much
shouting and rattling of harness, they moved off. I stole along beside
the second wagon for some distance, and had almost decided to climb into
it from behind when I thought that possibly some one was in it. There
seemed little danger in going out behind the wagons, especially as there
was no light of day as yet, although I expected that the cavalry pickets
on the road would be looking straight at me, if I should pass them, and
although, too, I fully understood that these wagons would be escorted by
cavalry when on any dangerous part of the road to Richmond. But my plan
was to abandon the wa