morsel.

In the morning they had an excellent breakfast, and then resumed the
march, moving slowly and cautiously through the woods, but finding no
enemy till they came in sight of Fort Donelson.

Paul had guided the army to the fort, but now he had other duties to
perform. He was required to make a sketch of the ground around the fort,
that General Grant might know where to form his lines,--on what hills
to plant his cannon,--where to throw up breastworks for defence, should
the rebels see fit to come out and attack him. Leaving his horse behind,
Paul began his dangerous but important work on foot, that he might make
an accurate map,--examining through his field-glass the breastworks of
the rebels, counting their cannon, and beholding them hard at work. When
night came he crept almost up to their lines. He was between the two
armies,--a dangerous position, for the pickets on both sides were wide
awake, and his own comrades might fire upon him before he could give the
countersign. Although he stepped lightly, the sticks sometimes crackled
beneath his feet.

"Halt! Who goes there?" shouted a Rebel picket directly in front of him.
It was so sudden, and he was so near, that Paul's hair stood on end. He
darted behind a tree. Click! flash! bang! and a bullet came with a heavy
_thug_ into the tree. Bang! went another gun,--another,--and another;
and the pickets all along the rebel lines, thinking that the Yankees
were coming, blazed away at random. The Yankee pickets, thinking that
the rebels were advancing, became uneasy and fired in return. Paul
could hear the bullets spin through the air and strike into the trees.
His first thought was to get back to his comrades as soon as possible;
then he reflected that it would be dangerous to attempt it just then.
The firing woke up all the sleepers in the two armies. The drums were
beating the long roll, the bugles were sounding, and he could hear the
Rebel officers shouting to the men, "Fall in! fall in!" He laughed to
think that the crackling of a stick had produced all this uproar. He
wanted very much to join in the fun, and give the Rebel picket who had
fired at him a return shot, but his orders were not to fire even if
fired upon, for General Grant was not ready for a battle, and so, while
the Rebels were reloading their guns, he glided noiselessly away. When
he heard the bullets singing he expected to be hit; but as he was less
than six feet high and only eighteen inches acr