Love under Fire | Page 8

service for more than two years. Moreover, I was a good enough
scout to pass within the lines of your army to-night, and to travel the
whole length of your camp--"
"And then get lost an hour later," she interrupted archly. "Tell me, do
you know the points of the compass?"
"Certainly; that is north, and this road runs west, but I have no
recollection of it. What puzzled me was our failure to cross the river."
"Oh," with a quick glance toward me. "That is easily explained; we
turned the corner of the bluff instead. This is the old road to Jonesboro,
and has been used very little since the new road was opened. I chose it
because I thought I would be less likely to meet with any chance

travellers."
I began to comprehend more clearly where we were. The extreme right
of the position held by our army would be, at least, ten miles east, and
the Confederate left scarcely nearer. Beauregard was off in here
somewhere,--at Bird's Ferry according to our camp reports the evening
previous. This knowledge prompted me to ask,
"Which way is the river?"
"To the right about three miles."
"And Bird's Ferry?"
I could not be certain she smiled, yet I thought so.
"Yonder," pointing. "The river curves to the south, and this road comes
down to it at Jonesboro; there is a bridge there. The ferry is fifteen
miles farther up."
The apparent innocence of her answer completely disarmed me. Indeed
these facts were exactly as I remembered them now that I had our
present position in mind. The peculiar winding course of the river
would leave me nearer our lines at Jonesboro than where we then were.
Indeed foraging parties were covering much of the territory between,
and it was the nearest point where I could cross the stream otherwise
than by swimming.
"Are you going to Jonesboro?" I asked.
She nodded silently.
"Then may I ride that far with you?" I asked, rather doubtful of what
she would say to such a request. "Of course you will be aiding the
enemy, for I expect to discover some of our troops in that
neighborhood."
"How can I help myself?" banteringly. "You are a man, and armed.
Practically I am your prisoner."

"Oh, I don't want you to feel that way toward me. I have acted as a
gentleman, have I not, ever since I understood?"
"You certainly have, and I am not ungrateful. Then you do not order
me to take you; you merely ask if I will?"
"That is all."
"And that sounds so much better, I think. I don't mind your being a
Yankee if you continue to act that way. Shall I drive?"
"If you will; you know the road, and the tricks of the pony."
She laughed again, gathering up the reins, and reaching down after the
whip. At the first movement the little animal broke into a brisk trot as
though he understood his driver.
CHAPTER IV
THE COMING OF DAWN
The road was rough, apparently little travelled, and our lively passage
over it not greatly conducive to conversation. Besides I hardly knew
what to say. The consciousness of total failure in all my plans, and the
knowledge that I would be received at headquarters in anything but
honor, weighed heavily upon me, yet this depression did not seal my
lips half as much as the personality of the young woman at my side.
Pleasant and free as her manner had been, yet I was clearly made to
realize there was a distinct limit to any familiarity. I could not define
the feeling, but it had taken possession of me, and I knew the slightest
overstepping of the boundaries would result in trouble. We were neither
enemies nor friends; merely acquaintances under a temporary flag of
truce. No doubt, trusting me as an honorable soldier, even though
wearing an enemy's uniform, she was almost glad to have my
protection along this lonely road, but, when the time came to part, she
would be equally relieved to have me go. I was nothing to her; if ever
remembered again it would be merely to laugh over my discomfiture in
mistaking her for another. It hurt my pride to think this, to thus realize

her complete indifference. She was a young woman, and I a young man,
and nothing in my nature made surrender easy. I desired, at least, to
leave behind me some different impression of my own personality. I
was not a fool, nor a failure, and I could not bear to have her conceive
me as a mere blundering block-head, a subject for subsequent laughter.
The silence in which she drove stirred me to revolt. Apparently she felt
no overwhelming curiosity as to whom I was, no