His voice rang with determination.  The man slowly unbuttoned his waistcoat and took out a folded dispatch.

“Put it on the ground in front of you.  That’s right, and don’t you reach for it again.  Now, lay your canteen beside it!”

“What in thunder do you want with my canteen?  It’s empty!”

“I can fill it again.  This is a well watered country.  That’s right; put it beside the dispatch.  Now you walk about one hundred yards to the right with your back to me.  If you look around at all I fire, and I’m a good marksman.  Stand there ten minutes, and then you can move on!  That’s right!  Now march!”

The man walked away slowly and when he had gone about half the distance Harry, picking up the dispatch, took flight again across the fields.  Climbing a fence, he looked back and saw the figure of John Haskell, standing motionless on a hill.  He knew that the man was not likely to remain in that position more than half the allotted time.  It was certain that he would soon turn, despite the risk, but Harry was already beyond his reach.

He leaped from the fence, crossed another field and entered a wood.  There he paused among the trees and saw Haskell returning.  But when he had come a little distance, he shook his head doubtfully, and then walked toward the north.

“A counsel of wisdom,” chuckled Harry, who was going in quite another direction.  “I think I’ll read my dispatch now.”

He opened it and blessed his luck.  It was from Meade to Pleasanton, directing him to cut in with all the cavalry he could gather on the enemy’s flank.  The Potomac was in great flood and the Army of Northern Virginia could not possibly cross.  If it were harried to the utmost by the Union cavalry the task of destroying it would be much easier.

“So it would,” said Harry to himself.  “But Pleasanton won’t get this dispatch.  Providence has not deserted me yet; and it’s true that fortune favors the brave.  I’m John Haskell of the Fifth Pennsylvania and I can prove it.”

He had put the canteen over his shoulder and the name upon it was a powerful witness in his favor.  The dispatch itself was another, and his faded uniform told nothing.

Harry had passed through so much that a reckless spirit was growing upon him, and he had succeeded in so much that he believed he would continue to succeed.  Regretfully he threw the shotgun away, as it would not appear natural for a messenger to carry it and a rifle too.

He went forward boldly now, and, when an hour later he saw a detachment of Union cavalry in a road, he took no measures to avoid them.  Instead he went directly toward the horsemen and hailed them in a loud voice.  They stopped and their leader, a captain, looked inquiringly at Harry, who was approaching rapidly.

Harry held up both hands as a sign that he was a friend, and called in a loud voice: 

“I want a horse!  And at once, if you please, sir!”