But he kept his horse’s head straight for the narrow valley where the “rebel raiders” rode.  He met presently a small detachment of Connecticut men, but the sight of his canteen and letter was sufficient for them.  Again he rode southwest, merely to turn due west once more, after he had passed from their sight, and near the head of the valley he encountered two men in blue on horseback watching.  They were alert, well-built fellows and examined Harry closely, a process to which long usage had reconciled him.

“I hear that the rebels are down in that valley, comrade,” he said.

“So they are,” replied the elder and larger of the men.  “We’ve got to ask you who you are and which way you’re going.”

“John Haskell, Fifth Pennsylvania, with dispatches from General Meade to General Pleasanton.  They’re tremendously important, too, and I’ve got to be in a hurry.”

“More haste less speed.  You know the old saying.  In a time like this it’s sometimes better for a man to know where he’s going than it is to get there, ’cause he may arrive at the wrong place.”

“Good logic, comrade, but I must hurry just the same.  Which is my best way to find General Pleasanton?”

“Southwest.  But I’m bound to tell you a few things first.”

“All right.  What are they?”

“You and I must be kinsfolk.”

“How do you make that out?”

“Because my name is William Haskell, and I belong to the Fifth Pennsylvania, the same regiment that you do.”

“Is that so?  It’s strange that we haven’t met before.  But funny things happen in war.”

“So they do.  Awfully funny.  Now my brother’s name is John Haskell, and you happen to be carrying his canteen, but you’ve changed looks a lot in the last few days, Brother John.”

Haskell’s voice had been growing more menacing, and Harry, with native quickness, was ready to act.  When he saw the man’s pistol flash from his belt he went over the side of his horse and the bullet whistled where his body had been.  His own rifle cracked in reply, but Haskell’s horse, not he, took the bullet, and, screaming with pain and fright, ran into the woods as the rider slipped from his back.

Harry, realizing that his peril was imminent and deadly, fired one of his pistols at the second man, who fell from his horse, too badly wounded in the shoulder to take any further part in the fight.

But Harry found in Haskell an opponent worthy of all his skill and courage.  The Union soldier threw himself upon the ground and fired at Harry’s horse, which instantly jerked the bridle from his hand and fled as the other had done.  Harry dropped flat in the grass and leaves and listened, his heart thumping.

But luck had favored him again.  He lay in a slight depression and any bullet fired at him would be sure to go over him unless he raised his head.  He could not see his enemies, but he could depend upon his wonderful power of hearing, inherited and cultivated, which gave him an advantage over his opponents.