The sounds increased now rapidly, and soon a single horse dashed by; I could not see the rider for the boughs of the trees, but I saw a black horse going south.

Was this the messenger who had outstripped me at the start?  I could not know, but the horse was black.  Why not brown?  How could I be sure that in the moonlight I could tell black from brown, or black from bay?  I could not answer, yet I felt confidence in my first impression.  The lieutenant had said the man’s horse was black.  How did the lieutenant know?  Had he seen the horse by day?  Had he brought a light?  The horse must be very black.  To satisfy my mind I led my horse into the road and slipped the bridle round his foreleg; then retired a few yards and looked at him—­he had not the colour of the black horse; he was a deep bay.

Why was the black horse returning?  Doubtless the enemy had been found far up the road, and the messenger could not get through them.  Who else would be riding fast down this road?  If the rider were a rebel, he would ride slow.  Our men would ride fast toward our own lines; this rider was one of ours.  Who was he?  He was the messenger on the black horse.  Why should he ride so fast to the rear?  He was seeking a new road; perhaps he knew of another road, and was hurrying now because he had already lost time and his new road would be longer and would make him lose more.

Yet I went on up the road.  I had heard the galloping of the black horse far off, and I knew that I could go half a mile before I should encounter the enemy.  I was ahead of the black horse.

After riding five minutes slowly on, I came to a small field on the right of the road; in the field was a cabin.  I paused, and considered.  The cabin, no doubt, was deserted; but if it were occupied, what should I fear?  I was in citizen’s dress.  If any one was now in the cabin, I might get information; if it was deserted, I could explore the ground about it, for I hoped that some path connected this place with other fields and perhaps other roads to the north.  I dismounted and approached the door and knocked.  There was no response.  I pushed the door, and it opened; the place had been vacated.  I searched the grounds; there was a well in the back yard, and I lost the hope that I should find a path leading to a spring, and perhaps beyond.  I diligently and painfully continued my search, and at length was rewarded by seeing a stile in the back fence.  I went back and mounted, and rode round the little field to the stile, and took the path leading from it due north.  I reached the woods, and was compelled to dismount, for the branches of the trees overhung the path and constantly barred my way.  Leading my horse, I continued on and came to a larger field where, at the fence, the path connected with, a narrow plantation road which I knew, from the ruts, wagons had used.  I went to the right, no longer dismounted, and going at a fast trot.  My road was running