“How much farther is it?”

“’Bout half a mile, sah,” staring about into what to me was impenetrable darkness.  “Yo’ see de forked tree dar on de lef’?”

I was not sure, yet there was something in that direction which might be what he described.

“I guess so—­why?”

“I ’members dat tree, for dar’s a spring just at de foot ob it.”

“Is the rest of the way hard?”

“No, sah, not wid me goin’ ahead of yo’, for dar’s a medium good path from de spring up to de top o’ de hill.  I’se pow’ful feared though we might run across some ob dem Confed sojers ’round yere.”

I tried to look at him, but could see only the whites of his eyes, but his voice somehow belied his words—­to my mind there was no fear in the fellow.  I passed back word along the line, and found all the men present.  Not a sound came out of the night, and I ordered the ex-slave to lead on.

CHAPTER XVIII

OVERHEARD CONVERSATION

It was a little gully, hardly more than a tramped footpath, leading down the bank up which we crept until we attained the level.  With eyes sharpened by the long night vigil we could perceive the dim outlines of buildings, and a glow or two of distant lights.  I felt of the face of my watch, deciding the time to be not far from half-past twelve.  Our tramp had seemed longer than a trifle over three hours, and it was a relief to know we still had so much of darkness left in which to operate.  I touched the man lying next me, unable to tell one dark form from another.

“Who are you?”

“Wilson, sir.”

“Where is the guide?”

“Right yere, sah,” and the speaker wriggled toward me on his face.  “Dis yere is de place.”

“I supposed so, but it is all a mere blur out there to me.  What are these buildings just ahead of us?”

“De slave quarters, sah; dey’s all deserted, ’cept maybe dat first one yonder,” pointing.  “I reckon Aunt Mandy an’ her ol’ man are dar yet, but de field hands dey all done cleared out long time ago.  De stable was ober dar toward de right, whar dat lantern was dodgin’ ‘round.  Yo’ creep ‘long yere, an’ I’ll point out de house—­see, it’s back o’ de bunch o’ trees, whar de yaller light shows in de winder.  I reckon dar’s some of ’em up yet.”

From his description I received a fair impression of the surroundings, questioning briefly as I stared out at the inanimate objects faintly revealed, and endeavoring to plan some feasible course of action.  The stable was a hundred yards to the rear of the house, a fenced-off garden between, the driveway circling to the right.  Between the slave quarters and the mansion extended an orchard, the trees of good size and affording ample cover.  We were to the left of the house, and the light seen evidently streamed through one of the windows of the front room.  Where the guard was stationed no one of us could guess, yet this had to be determined first of all.  I called for Miles, and the sergeant, still holding his position at the rear, crept forward.