Love under Fire | Page 2

minor detail,
as it made little difference where I succeeded in penetrating the cordon
of pickets, so long as I returned with the information sought. If I had,
through mere chance, discovered a weak spot, then God was good.
My heart beat rapidly as I stared blindly up into the black recess of that
narrow defile, listening intently for the slightest unusual sound which
would indicate the near presence of anything human. It was caution, not
fear, however, which caused me to breathe quickly--my sole,
overpowering dread being that I might have to return, and face
Sheridan with a report of failure. I preferred anything rather than that. I
thought of his stern eyes as he looked me over in the late sunlight of the
evening before; the sharp rasp in his voice, as he said, "Geer, this is no
boy's work," and the quiet, confident reply of my captain, "Galesworth

will do it for you, General, if any one can." The memory of that scene
seemed to stiffen my nerves; I had to make good here in the dark, alone,
and so, on hands and knees, I began creeping slowly up underneath the
tangle of bushes. The path was steep and stony, so densely overhung
with branches as to appear like a tunnel. There were loose stones which
I had to guard against dislodging, and the drier leaves rustled as I
pressed them, aside. This endeavor to avoid noise made progress slow.
I must have been fully ten minutes, thus endeavoring to break through,
seeing and hearing nothing alarming, yet constantly feeling an odd
premonition of danger, when I finally attained the top of the bank,
perhaps twenty feet back from the river, and looked out through a slight
fringe of bushes. The first thing noticeable was the dull red glow of a
fire, nearly extinguished, some few yards in advance. The little gleam
of light thrown out as the wind stirred the smouldering embers served
to reveal the dirty flap of a tent set up at the edge of a grove of saplings,
and a horse, standing with lowered head, sharply outlined against the
canvas. I could even perceive the deep-seated cavalry saddle, and catch
the shine of accoutrements. All these details came to me in a sudden
flash of observation, for, almost simultaneously with my rising above
the edge of the bank, my ears distinguished voices conversing, and so
closely at hand as to almost unnerve me. I gripped a root between my
fingers to keep from falling, and held on motionless, striving to locate
the speakers. They were to my left, scarcely four yards distant, yet so
dimly revealed against the background of leaves I could tell nothing of
their rank--merely that one was short, and heavily built, while the other,
a much taller, and seemingly more nervous man, was wrapped in a long
cavalry cape. It was his voice speaking, a rather peculiar voice, as
though he possessed some slight impediment of speech.
"Do not look at it in that way, General," he protested earnestly. "I am
not opposing your plan, but merely urging the extreme peril of the
undertaking--"
"Human life cannot be considered at such a time, Hardy," broke in the
other warmly. "The cause for which we battle, the duty confronting us,
outweighs all else. A life may be sacrificed, but that single life may

save thousands."
"True; very true. I am sufficiently a soldier to realize that. Yet what you
propose seems an impossibility. Two aides have endeavored this
service already, and failed, their lives forfeited. Others stand ready to
go the moment the word is spoken, but what possibility is there of
success, that any volunteer could get through alive?"
"Practically none," admitted the other, his deep voice more grave.
"There is only one in whom I feel the slightest hope, Hardy; that is why
I have sent for you. I naturally hesitate to say so, but I believe the
moment has now come which demands this sacrifice. You recall the
offer of service made us last night, Major?"
The man addressed took a single step backward, one hand flung up, as
though warding off a blow.
"You--" he stammered, "can you mean Billie?"
"Yes; the South can have no more urgent need than now. These
despatches must reach Beauregard, and I must have the report from
Carroll. If the latter is not already in Beauregard's possession, then it
must be sought even in the enemy's camp. Every hour of delay adds to
our danger. If Carroll is dead I must know it; if he has gained the
information he was sent after, then I must have it. I can stand this
waiting no longer--there is too much at stake. As you say two men have
already fallen endeavoring to pierce the