The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-11-28


 nearer at hand were victims far easier O. approach, and so they slunk growl ingly past, leaving me unmolested. Yet I distinguished enough of their profane speech to render the situa- tion clear. Our army had been press ed relentlessly back, driven pell nell across the river in disorderly retreat, and the victorious forces of the Con- federacy held the field.
 A single shot rang out far to my right, and the black figure of one of those skulking vultures went sinking past on q run, stumbling in his haste over the dead bodies. Already sen tries diligently watched, and with the coming of daylight the Confederate burial parties would be busy.
 The very sound of that distant mus ket shot served to arouse me to ac- tion. Slowly, and with no little pain, I succeeded in creeping forth from beneath the gun shadow, and sat up. My side still throbbed severely, it. is true, yet my limbs were intact, and l managed to draw myself erect by grasping the spokes of the wheel until I finally stood there faint and trem- bling. Nevertheless I realized my strength was coming back in response to movement, a fresh determination taking possession of my mind. I felt mained anything to endeavOr for. And why was there not? The Federal army could not be very far away. I must try to join them, not lie here to run the risk of capture on the morrow. There would be some hiding place near by into which I could crawl be- fore the revealing dawn came.
 I could recall so little of the sur roundings. There was the black shadow of wood to my front, but the river would surely be in the opposite direction, and the narrow stream we had crossed while coming into action must be wonder to the left. I deter mined to creep down there anyway, for I must have water. Finally I ar rived at the edge of the bank, where the descent was steep, and slid silently down. Once beside the narrow stream dipped my face in the running water and drank greedily. I tore aside the rough woolen artillery shirt wore and attempted to explore the wound in my side. It was jagged, ugly gash, evi- dently torn by splinter, but not dan- gerously deep, although it had bled profusely.
 Suddenly I seemed to recall to mem ory the vague glimpse of distant house far down the valley, half reveal ed as our battery dashed forward into position. There would undoubtedly be found opportunity for concealment among the outbuildings, provided could attain to their shelter before day break; possibly for food also if any ne groes yet remained there. Every inch of this open territory would be diligent ly searched for the wounded, and my sole chance for escape lay somewhere without the immediate zone of battle. It must have been two, perhaps three, miles distant, a large white house al- most completely surrounded by trees and barely showing down the narrow gap of the valley.
 I was less seriously injured than I had at first believed, and this knowl- edge added immeasurably to my stock of hope and courage. Of Irish blood, ardent, cumulative, the very sense of surrounding danger became a stimu lant. stole silently down beneath the gloom of the bank shadow for possibly a hundred yards, scanning the oppo- site shore with anxious eyes, yet per- ceiving nothing calculated to alarm. Then I crept up to the level above, dis covering there the faint traces of a road which I followed, walking for ward cautiously. Once I sank down into a shallow depression as three shadowy horsemen rode silently past. Then the road led downward into the broadening valley, running through a black fringe of trees, the gloom be- meath the interlaced branches so dense could scarcely discover the way, trip ping continually over stumps and roots. It was a long two miles before I at tained to the fragment of an enclos- ing rail fence and could perceive the dark outlined shadow of a large shed beyond. However, the exercise of the tramp had served to strengthen my muscles, while the attendant excite ment had completely swept away the cobwebs from my brain. I had be- come a man once more energetic, re- sourceful; no longer the wounded, aim- less thing that had crept, weak, dizzy and despairing from beneath the wrecked gun. l took long breath and then crept underneath the rails into the shed shadow. s
 The faintest tinge of approaching dawn was already in the sky, as yet scarcely perceptible, but enabling my eyes to distinguish the dim outlines of my immediate surroundings. Slightly beyond were several small log huts, closely grouped together, undoubtedly the negro quarters of the plantation. These appeared deserted. A low picket fence, originally painted white, but now sadly demoralized, one sec tion lying flat on the ground, served to separate this portion of the estate from the house lot, while thick hedge of trees thoroughly concealed the man. sion itself from view. But the sm0l0- ering embers of a camp fire glowed sullenly directly in front of the cover ed entrance, and I could both perceive and hear the restless movement of horses tied to the veranda rail. I was enabled to distinguish the shadowy fig