“Do I look like a dead man?  No, my time hasn’t come yet.  I foiled ’em in the wood, and there I have spent all day.  Have you any victuals, for I am famished?”

“Yes, come in.”

“I can not stay.  I will take what you have and leave at once, for the villains may be lurkin’ round here somewhere.  But first, the bullet! have you that safe?”

“Here it is.”

The scout put it in his pocket, and taking in his hand a paper box of bread and meat which his loyal hostess brought him, resumed his hazardous journey.

He knew that there were other perils to encounter, unless he was particularly fortunate, but he had a heart prepared for any fate.  The perils came, but he escaped them with adroitness, and at midnight of the following day he was admitted into the presence of Colonel Craven.

Surely this was no common man, and his feat was no common one.

In forty-eight hours, traveling only by night, he had traversed one hundred miles with a rope round his neck, and without the prospect of special reward.  For he was but a private, and received but a private’s pay—­thirteen dollars a month, a shoddy uniform, and hard-tack, when he could get it.

Colonel Craven opened the bullet, and read the dispatch.

It was dated “Louisa, Kentucky, December 24, midnight”; and directed him to move at once with his regiment (the Fortieth Ohio, eight hundred strong) by way of Mount Sterling and McCormick’s Gap, to Prestonburg.  He was to encumber his men with as few rations as possible, since the safety of his command depended on his celerity.  He was also requested to notify Lieutenant-Colonel Woodford, at Stamford, and direct him to join the march with his three hundred cavalry.

On the following morning Col.  Craven’s column began to move.  The scout waited till night, and then set out on his return.  The reader will be glad to learn that the brave man rejoined his regiment.

CHAPTER XXIII.

GARFIELD’S BOLD STRATEGY.

Garfield didn’t wait for the scout’s return.  He felt that no time was to be lost.  The expedition which he had planned was fraught with peril, but it was no time for timid counsels.

On the morning following Jordan’s departure he set out up the river, halting at George’s Creek, only twenty miles from Marshall’s intrenched position.  As the roads along the Big Sandy were impassable for trains, and unsafe on account of the nearness of the enemy, he decided to depend mainly upon water navigation for the transportation of his supplies.