As he sat by the fire thinking somberly, a figure in the brush no great distance away was watching him.  Shepard, the spy, in the darkness had passed with ease between the sentinels, using the skill of an Indian in stalking or approaching, and now, lying well hidden, almost flat upon his stomach, he surveyed the camp.  He looked at Sherburne, sitting on a log and brooding, and he made out Harry’s figure wrapped in a blanket and lying with his feet to the fire.

Shepard’s mind was powerfully affected.  An intense patriot, something remote and solitary in his nature had caused him to undertake this most dangerous of all trades, to which he brought an intellectual power and comprehension that few spies possess.  As Harry had discovered long since, he was a most uncommon man.

Now Shepard as he gazed at this little group felt no hatred for them or their men.  He had devoted his life to the task of keeping the Union intact.  His work must be carried out in obscure ways.  He could never hope for material reward, and if he perished it would be in some out-of-the-way corner, perhaps at the end of a rope, a man known to so few that there would be none to forget him.  And yet his patriotism was so great and of such a fine quality that he viewed his enemies around the fire as his brethren.  He felt confident that the armies of the North would bring them back into the Union, and when that occurred they must come as Americans on an equal footing with other Americans.  They could not be in the Union and not of it.

But Shepard’s feeling for his official enemies would not keep him from acting against them with all the skill, courage and daring that he possessed in such supreme measure.  He knew that it was Sherburne’s task to open a way for the Army of Northern Virginia to the Potomac and to find a ford, or, in cooperation with some other force, to build a bridge.  It was for him to defeat the plan if he could.

While the rain all the day before had brought gloom to the hearts of Sherburne and his men it had filled his with joy, as he thought of the innumerable brooks and creeks that were pouring their swollen waters into the Potomac, already swollen too.  He meant now to follow Sherburne’s force, see what plan it would attempt, what point, perhaps, it would select for the bridge, and then bring the Union brigades in haste to defeat it.

It is said that men often feel when they are watched, although the watcher is invisible, but it was not so in Sherburne’s case.  He did not in the least suspect the presence of Shepard or of any foe, and the spy, after he had seen all he wished, withdrew, with the same stealth that had marked his coming.

An hour after midnight all were awakened and they rode away.  The next day they reached the Potomac near Williamsport, where their pontoon bridge had been destroyed, and looked upon the wide stream of the Potomac, far too deep for fording.