in a northeast course, but soon the corner of the field was reached, and then it branched, one branch going to the north, the other continuing northeast Which should I take?  I could not hesitate; I rode north, and kept on pursuing this narrow road for nearly a mile, I supposed.  Where I was I did not know, but I felt sure that I was flanking the rebels who had stopped the black horse.  I considered the plan of trying now to get back into the main road again, but rejected the thought, for no doubt Johnston’s army was stretched along this road for many miles; no doubt it was only the rear-guard picket that had turned back my unknown friend who had preceded me.  I would keep on, and I did keep on, getting almost lost sometimes, passing farms and woods and streams, forsaking one path for a worse one, if the latter favoured my course, until at last, after great anxiety, and fatigue of body and mind, I reached a wide road running northwest.  I had come, I supposed, four or five miles from the stile.

Now I no longer feared the rebel army.  That was at my left in the road to Richmond.  This road I was on led up the York.  The map was worthless now.  Of course, I might run foul of scouts and flying parties; those people I must watch for.

I supposed it was one o’clock, and that I yet had fifteen miles to go, for I had made my route much longer than the main road; but I counted that I had gained greatly, for I was in comparative safety, and had five hours yet.  The road ahead I knew nothing about, but it was running in the correct course for Eltham’s Landing high up on the river.

Soon I came to a fork.  Which branch should I take?  If I should take the right, it was chance for chance that I should go straight off to the York, and I wanted to go up the York; if I should take the left, it was chance for chance that I should ride straight to the enemy on the Richmond road.

I took the left.  To go to the river meant almost the loss of hope thereafter.  I would go toward the enemy for a little distance, but would take the first bridle-path to the right, some road or bridle-path branching out of this, and running up the river.  But my progress became exceedingly slow, for I feared always to miss seeing some blind road leading to the right, and my 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.