“But do you not hear the rebel artillery now?” he asked.

“I think, General, that the rebel artillery is firing from the other side of the river, but I admit that I am not sure of it.  Night came on me yesterday before I could reach Lee’s Mill, and I have nothing but hearsay in regard to that place.”

“What have you heard?”

I told him what the woman had said.

“What proof can you give me that you are not deceiving me?” he asked sternly.

“I do not know, General,” said I, “that I can give you any proof; I wish I could; perhaps you can so question me as to satisfy you.”

The general sent a courier to the front.  He then wrote a line on a piece of paper, and handed the note to another courier, who rushed off to the rear.  In a few minutes an officer rode up from the rear; he saluted General Davidson, who spoke earnestly to him in a low tone.  I could easily guess that he was speaking of me.

Then, the officer approached me, and asked many questions about my service:—­where I was from—­where was my regiment from—­who was its colonel—­who was my captain—­how I had come to the army ahead of my regiment, etc.  To all these questions I gave brief and quick replies.  Then the officer asked for a detailed account of my scout, which I gave him in as few words as I knew how to use.  When I spoke of Nick, his eye brightened; when I spoke of giving Nick a note, he nodded his head.  Then he asked, “What did you write?”

“The word going,” I said.

“Have you a pencil?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Here, take this, and write the word going,” he said, handing me a small blank-book.

On a leaf of the book I wrote the word, and my signature below.

Then the officer took another book from his pocket, and looked attentively at both books.

Then he said:  “General, I think there is something in what he says. 
Better be careful of your advance.”

And to me, “You must need rest and food; come with me, Mr. Berwick.”

That night I slept in Dr. Khayme’s tent.

XI

FORT WILLIS

“This is the sergeant,
Who like a bold and hardy soldier fought.” 
—­SHAKESPEARE.

After having been well treated at General Keyes’s headquarters, I had been given a seat in an ambulance going back to Newport News.  The officer who had questioned me proved to be one of the general’s aides.  The negro Nick had succeeded in avoiding the rebels, and had delivered my message, with which my handwriting showed identity; moreover, General Keyes, when the matter was brought to his attention, immediately declared with a laugh that his friend Khayme’s protege was a “brick.”

The physical and mental tension to which I had been continuously subjected for more than two days was followed by a reaction which, though natural enough, surprised me by its degree.  I lay on a camp-bed after supper, utterly done.  The Doctor and Lydia sat near me, and questioned me on my adventures, as they ware pleased to term my escapade.  Lydia was greatly interested in my account of my visit to the woman’s house; the Doctor’s chief interest was centred on Nick.