Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1865-10-25

dark mantle, and followed the sound Oi
their voices Entering the woods. she
crePt i'll among the bushes, and talked
with the owls as if they had been human
"They know the road yen take" she
said; ''ye must change yer route. Here
ar the bullet"
"God bless We, Rachelw responded
the owl, yer true woman" !"-and he
hooted louder than before, to deceive
pursuers, and keep up the music.
"Ar' yer horse safe ?" she asked
Eyes, and good for forty mile afore
sun-up"
"Well, here ar suthin ter eat: yell
need it. Good bye. and God go wi ye!
He'll go VII ye, fur He loves noble
wimen."
Their hands olasped, and then they
parted: he to his long ride, she to the
quiet sleep of those who out of a true
heart, serve their country.
The night was dark and drizzIy; but
before morning the clouds cleared away
leaving a thick mist hanging low on the
meadows. The scouts mare was fleet, but
the road was rough and a slOsh of snow
impeded the travel. He had come by O
strange way, and did not know how faT
he had travelled by sunrise; but lights
were ahead, shivering in the haze of the
cold, grey morning. Were they the
early candles of some sleepy village, or
the camp fires of band of guerrillas
He did not know, and it would not be
safe to go on till he did know. The road
was lined with trees, but they would give
no shelter; for they were far apart, and
the snow lay white between them. He
was in the blue grass region. lettering
his horse in the timber, he climbed tall
oak by the roadside; but the mist was
too thick to admit of his discerning any
thing distinctly. 1t seemed, however,
to be breaking away, and he would wait
until his way was clear; 20 he sat there,
an hour, two hours, and ate his breakfast
from the sachel Johns wife had slung
over his shoulder. At last the fog lifted
little, and he saw close at hand a small
hsmlet,-a few rude huts gathered round
. cross-road. No danger could lurk in
such place. and he was about to descend
and pursue his journey, when suddenly
he heard up the road by which he came,
the rapid tramp of body of horsemen.
The mist was thick below, so halfway
down the tree he went, and waited their
coming. They moved at an irregular
pace, carrying lanterns. and pausing
every now and then to inspect the road,
as if they had missed their way or lost
something. Soon they came near. and
were dimly outlined in the grey mist, so
the scout could make out their number.
There were thirty of them; the original
band, and reinforcement. Again they
halted when abreast of the tree, aud
searched the road narrowly.
HE must have come this way said one
he of the chivalry, the other road is six
miles longer, and he would take the
shortest route. It's an awful pity we
didn't head him on both roads,"
ave kin come up with him yit, eff we
turn plump round and folIer on t'other
road where we lost the trail. back there
three miles ter the deadnin."
| Now another spoke, and his voice the
scout remembered. He belonged to his
own company in the Fourteenth Ken
lucky. at is So" he said; che has tuck
t'other road. l tell ye I'd know that
mans shoe among a million. Nary one
loike it wus uver seed in all KintucB, only
a id Yankee could ha, invented it,
And we're it ar shouted q man with
one of the lanterns, plain as sun-up.'
| The Fourteenth Kentuckian clutched
i INC anu nullC u uOLCA Ol5AuOOhtOu
and gathering round closely examined
the shoe-track. The ground was bare on
the spot, and the print of the horses
hoof was clearly cut in the half-frOzen
mud. Narrowly the man looked, and
life and death hung on his eve-sight.-
The scout took out the bullet aad placed
it in a crotch of the tree. IL they took
him, the Devil should not take the dis
patch. Then he drew a revolver The
mist was breaking away, and he would
surely be discovered, if the men fingered
much longer; but he would have the
value of his life to the uttermOst far
thing.
Meanwhile, the horsemen crowded
round the footprint, and one of them
inadvertently trod upon it. The Ken
tuckian looked long and earnestly, but
at last he said,-
"Ta'n't the track. That AR mar has
sand-crack on her right fore-foot. She
didn't take kindly to a round shoe, so the
Yank. he guv her one with the cork
right in the middle % the quarter. Twas
a burned smart cOntrivance, fur ye see, it
eased the strain, and let the nag go MIN
BILE as a squirrel. The cork ha'nt yere,
it arn't her track, and we're wastin time
in luckin."
The cork was not there, because the
troopers tread had obliterated it. Read
er, let us thank him for that one good
step. if he never take another; for it
saved the scout. and maybe, it saved
Kentucky. When the scout returned
that way, he halted abreast of the tree,
and examined the ground about it
Right there in the road, was the mares
track, with the print of the mans foot
still upon the inner quarter! He un-
covered his head. and from his heart
went up a single thanksgiving.
The horsemen gone, the scout came
down from the tree, and pushed on into
the misty morning. There might be dan
ger head, but there surely was danger
behind him. His pursuers were only half
convicted that they had struck his trail; /;
and some sensible fiend might put it into
their heads to divide and follow. part by
one route, part by the other.
He pushed on over the sloshy road, his
mare every step going slower and slower.
The poor beast was jaded out; for she had
travelled sixty miles, eaten nothing, and
been stabbed in the timber. She would
have given out long before, had her blood
not been the best in Kentucky. As it was,
she staggered along as if she had taken a
barrel of whiskey. Five miles farther on
was the house of Union man. She must
reach it, or die by the wayside; for the
merciful man regardeth not the life Of
his beast, when he carries dispatches.
The loyalist did not know the scout,
but his honest face secured him cordial
welcome. He explained that he was from
the Union camp on the Big Sandy, and
offered any price for horse to go on
with.
Yer nag is wuth ary two o. my crit
ters.n said the man. "Ye kin take the
best beast I've got and when ye r ag'in
this way, we'll swop back even."
The scout thanked him, mounted the
horse, and rode off into the mist again,
without the warm breakfast which the
good woman had, half-cooked, in the
kitchen. 1t was eleven o'clock; and at
twelve that night he entered Col Cra-
nor's quarters at Paris,-having ridden
hundred miles with rope around his
neck, for thirteen dollars month, hard