My running into the sentry had made some little commotion, which served to call the attention of the officer, who recognized me and ordered the guard to allow me to pass. Meeting me half way, we walked to one side. I believe this officer was Fitz-John Porter, who was then chief-of-staff--I am not positive; anyway, I was courteously received, and, after being seated, was put through a course of cross-examination as to my recent experience in the south, pretty much--as I now recall it--after the manner of a witness in his own defense.

Being satisfied that General Patterson had referred the whole subject to this officer for his action, I told him briefly and pointedly that I was willing and ready to undertake the service I proposed, and believed that it was possible to ascertain the movements, and perhaps the plans of General Johnston; that I could at least gather from their telegraph communications to Richmond and Manassas the purport of any instructions which were, of course, being sent to Johnston in that way over the wires. I was perfectly willing, for the good of the cause, to undertake the dangerous service of getting back through the lines with the information.

Whatever may have been thought of the feasibility or propriety of this project, Mr. Porter could scarcely have doubted my motive, but he apparently looked upon me as a youthful enthusiast, or, as we term it nowadays, a crank. He said:

"The General is not disposed to make much use of the service of scouts; he thinks it altogether unnecessary in this instance."

If Fitz-John Porter had dashed a bucket of cold water in my face, it would not at the time have had a more chilling effect than his few hard words he uttered in this contemptible manner.

My proposition was not visionary, but entirely practical, and I venture now the opinion that had the service been accepted in the proper spirit it is possible that the despised spy might have brought to his shiftless headquarters some reliable information of Johnston's proposed movement to Manassas, which might have prevented his escape, and thus have turned the tide of battle at Bull Run, which followed soon after the interview.

It is likely that the headquarters of the army were a little over-sensitive on account of the well-known or the imagined interference or meddling of the Washington authorities with their military prerogatives. It has been fully explained in the "Century" history, (since this story was first told) that General Scott, through the proper channels, had been for days urging General Patterson to look carefully after Johnston, and to prevent at all hazards his junction with Beauregard.

The urgency of the Washington officials, taken in connection with the letter I brought from the Secretary and Mr. Covode, may perhaps have caused them to infer that they were considered neglectful and needed some prompting and investigation; perhaps it may have been thought that I had been sent out as a spy in their own camps. Any way, I was not a willing party to any such schemes; my only object and desire was to accomplish something for the benefit of the cause, and in this I had not a thought of myself.

Returning sorrowfully and with my heart laden with disappointment to my bed, I pondered long before sleeping as to my proper course. The longer I considered all the circumstances connected with my being sent up there, I realized more clearly the real meaning of Covode's words:

"Old Simon wants to find out something; you go ahead," and the repeated hints to report "direct," came back to me with a greater significance than when uttered by Mr. Covode in Washington.

My humiliating reception at headquarters had deeply affected my rather sensitive feelings on the spy question. I had decided in my own mind to return to Washington at once; but after reflection, while on my bed, there was a revulsion of feeling from humiliation to anger; and, after taking all things into consideration, I decided for myself, without consulting any one, that I should, on my own responsibility and without aid from our own officers, pass through our lines, enter the rebel lines, ascertain their plans, and go direct via Manassas to Washington, and report _personally_ to the Secretary of War.

CHAPTER VIII.

A NIGHT'S SCOUT IN JOHNSTON'S ARMY--REBEL SIGNALS--VISITORS FROM THE UNION ARMY HEADQUARTERS REPORT TO REBEL HEADQUARTERS--GENERAL J. E.

JOHNSTON'S ESCAPE TO BEAUREGARD REPORTED TO GENERAL PATTERSON--FITZ-JOHN PORTER RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN, AS HE WAS CASHIERED FOR THAT OF THE SECOND BULL RUN--AN IMPORTANT CONTRIBUTION TO THE WAR HISTORY OF THE TIME--THE STORY SINCE CONFIRMED BY THE "CENTURY"

HISTORIANS OF LINCOLN, SECRETARIES NICOLAY AND HAY.

In the morning I mailed a hastily-written note to Mr. Covode relating briefly the result of the interview with General Patterson's principal aide, and stating further that I would return to Washington via the Rebel lines at Manassas, and report "direct" on my arrival.

I hunted up in one of the regiments a former acquaintance, who had some knowledge of my Fort Pickens adventures through the papers. As our talk naturally turned in this channel, he expressed a lively desire to engage with me in any further undertakings of this character, and, before we parted, it was mutually agreed that, if the arrangements could be made, we should travel together as scouts.

I told my chum of my intention of going to Washington via Winchester and Manassas, and suggested that he secure permission from his colonel to go part of the way along; that he might return with any important information that we should gather, while I should go on through to Washington. It was agreed that he should be granted a leave of absence for a certain time, but he was cautioned by all his friends not to follow my lead, as it would surely result in his getting hanged. The warnings served only to increase his anxiety to get started on a real adventure.

As we could not get authority from our officers to go outside of our lines, it was necessary that we should run the gauntlet of both the picket-lines; our own were in sight and could probably be easily managed, but we did not know anything whatever about the other.

[ILLUSTRATION: WE HASTILY DRESSED AND RAN BACK FROM THE BANK.]

I proposed that we should make the crossing of the river early in the evening under pretence of bathing, swim to the other side of the river with our clothes concealed in bushes held above the water. We were to assume the character of Baltimore refugees desirous of entering the rebel army. With this plan matured, and all the little minor points agreed upon between us in case of capture or separation, we were both eager for the night to come, that we might start upon the journey.

We both studied the Virginia landscape carefully during all of daylight, and when evening began to draw its shadows around the hills and trees our hearts beat quicker, in anticipation of the forthcoming adventure.

After sundown we joined a crowd who had permission to bathe. There were, probably, a dozen or more in the crowd. We quickly undressed; scarcely speaking a word to each other, we joined in a general way in the sport and antics that soldiers love so much to indulge in when off duty.

My wardrobe was done up in as small a bundle as was possible, and while the others were fully immersed in their sport, I slipped both bundles further down the shore; my friend watching the movement from among the crowd. At a hint from me he swam down the stream and, quickly picking up the two bundles in the darkness that had now come upon us, safely towed them to the other shore, where he waited for me. I joined him as soon as possible, without being missed; we hastily dressed and ran back from the bank into the bushes to finish our toilets, and take an observation and both laughing at our success in escaping from our friends.

We thought it best to avoid the public roads after passing our pickets, so kept to the fields and woods, we cautiously moving along, stopping every now and then to listen and peer through the darkness for some signs of life. We crossed field after field and passed through strips of woods that seemed to be miles in extent, carefully avoiding all houses in our path.

The tramp became lonesome and tiresome--our nerves were at the highest tension, as we expected at every step to meet with something, we didn't know exactly what. Without a sign of anything alive except the crickets and frogs, we finally became indifferent and careless, having about concluded in our own minds that the rebels had left that part of Virginia. One fact was certainly established early in the scout, there were no signs of an enemy in General Patterson's immediate front that night, and probably there had not been any regular force near him for several days; yet every soldier in our army was positive that the woods right in front of them where we had been tramping were full of rebels.

General Patterson's official reports will show that he entertained this erroneous opinion; yet he had no desire to avail himself of the service of scouts.

Becoming convinced that we should not meet with any opposition, we became bolder the further we went, and at last took the public road, trotted along leisurely without much attempt at concealment for some distance; we had almost became disgusted, not meeting with any fun, when we stumbled right into a barricade, which had been placed across the public highway by the rebels. Luckily for the two foolish scouts, the enemy was not there to secure the game that had blundered into their trap.

It is doubtful if it had ever been occupied at all, being probably placed in that position as a blind. This blockade, however, would have answered the purpose of obstructing, for awhile at least, a cavalry raid, or charge. Most likely it had been placed there to protect a retreating army.

It did not have the effect of stopping us, however, and we moved on further south. As we emerged from a deep wood, we were at last rewarded by seeing a light on the top of the hill beyond, but yet some distance to the side of the road; we made this out to be a light in the window of some farmhouse, but my comrade, who was a farmer boy, suggested that it wasn't the right thing for a farmhouse to be lighted up that way at midnight.

Looking at it from our uncertain standpoint, we concluded to approach it cautiously and see if there were anybody stirring around about the light.

Climbing over the fence into the field, we approached that light by the cautious, engineering tactics, using a zigzag stake-and-rider fence for our sap. For the first time that night we felt for our pistols, which were the only weapons we had. The oppressive silence was broken by my farmer comrade's voice startling me by a husky:

"I'll bet we'll find the dogs at home, anyway."

We crawled up that fence in single line, heads and bodies bent, something after the style of pictures of Indians about to attack a pioneer's log house. Stealthily we moved along, pausing every moment or two to listen and look about. We had some dispute as to which of us should take the advance. I reasoned with my friend that he was the better countryman, and more familiar with stake-and-rider fences and dogs than I; that it was his place to go ahead; but he wouldn't have it that way, insisting that I was the captain and must lead; so I reluctantly went ahead, insisting that he should follow his leader close enough to be touched. While talking in hushed voices, I stepped abruptly right onto something soft and round, which jumped up as suddenly as if I had loosed a spring, and with an unearthly snort and grunt began to scamper off. I was so startled, and became so nervous from the suddenness of the encounter, that I must have jumped around as quickly as an automaton pulled by a string--my comrade being close to me, as directed. I had by my quick turn knocked my head square against his with such force that we were both stunned. It was only an old hog that we had roused from the innocent sleep of the country, which, at any other time, would have been awfully funny, but we were both too badly hurt to laugh, and too much scared to swear out loud.

This one hog started up some others, the whole herd scampering over the fields snorting, which in turn routed out the dogs from the house, that came tearing out toward the sounds. Luckily enough, there was a picket or garden fence between us and the house, which the dogs didn't get over, and, before they got around it, their attention was drawn away from our location toward the hogs that were still running away from us.

While my companion and I were comparing notes we were further startled by hearing a sound of voices, which were apparently coming from the same direction we had just passed over. Now we were in for it. There were dogs in front of us, hogs to the side of us, and voices to the rear of us.

The lights at the house had disappeared suddenly when the dogs began their uproar--there was nothing to be seen except the outlines of the grove surrounding the house. While breathlessly considering what would be the next best move, the sound of voices was again heard, seemingly closer this time. Straining every faculty, I imagined that I could also distinguish footsteps; that there were more than one person was evident from the conversation; but whether they were colored boys, returning from a night out, or white men and enemies who, like ourselves, were on a scout, armed and liable to go off at half-cock on the slightest provocation, was the one thing we would have given anything to have found out.

We couldn't run, as our retreat was cut off, and, if we moved at all, we were likely to start up the pack of infernal dogs, so we did the only thing possible under the circumstances--kept still.

The footsteps came on up the road, the voices getting closer. We made out that there were three persons, all talking earnestly together. If they had discovered us we would probably have carried out the Maryland refugee plan, and have joined them and have escaped detection. _But what if they should be our own men?_

I imagine that I can hear better with my hat off, so putting my head close to the ground, and in such a position that I could see over the lower fence rail, I waited with beating heart the coming footsteps. It was soon evident that they were talking about the light in the house that had disappeared, and I soon learned from the voices and the language used that they were not colored men. As the trio came nearer, one voice said:

"Well, we'd better wait right here."

"Oh, it's all safe enough; let's go on!"

"But," said the first speaker, "they said not to come to the house at night, unless there was a candle light in that far-corner window."

The third, who had not yet spoken, was nearest me, and was looking into the field right over where I lay. I thought that through the darkness, to which our eyes had become accustomed, that I recognized a face and form that I had met some place, but was not able to clearly distinguish.

While there had been nothing said to indicate their errand, it became pretty clear from these words that they were enemies, as there was apparently an understanding about the light in the window.

Was it possible that there were other men from the house skirmishing around in the darkness to our rear, and aided with guns and those dogs, would they run us down?

The third person, stepping a little in advance of the others, said: "Get back to the fence; there's somebody up on the road."

They scattered, and in a moment more suppressed voices were heard coming from an opposite direction, or _down_ the road.

We were between two enemies, but, fortunately, for us, on the opposite side and behind a big fence crouching in some elderberry bushes. My companion, as still as a log, was probably, like myself, so badly scared that he couldn't trust his voice to whisper a thought.

Two men--one in his shirt-sleeves, and the other in rebel uniform, which I so well recognized, as the same old grey I had been familiar with at Pensacola and Montgomery, came cautiously down the road. As they were almost directly opposite me, one of the three who had come _up_ the hill, accosted them familiarly: