If I had ridden up to his house as a blatant Rebel officer, on horseback, everything his house contained would have been officiously placed at my disposal without a word of question.

As it was, the old rascal began to ask questions, and was so disagreeable, too, in his manner, that a young man, who had come up from the barn, and who I judged to be his son, found it necessary to answer for me, and in a way that put the old man down.

Being thus encouraged by the son, the old lady took a hand in behalf of the "poor soldier," and endeavored in a kind, motherly way to make me more comfortable. I had told them that I had been slightly wounded in the foot, but the wound did not properly heal, and I had been tired and sick lying about the hospital camp, and had determined on my own account to get out to the country some place, for a day or two. I was particular to impress on the mind of the sour old man, that I was not a beggar--that I'd pay for all I got, etc. Now, I didn't have a cent of money, and if that old man had demanded a settlement after supper, I should have been sadly left; but I was going to stay all night, and return to camp _for a pass_ the next day. The old man had said that they all had their orders from the army officers not to entertain _any_ soldiers who couldn't produce passes. To this I replied that, "I had thoughtlessly overlooked the matter, but could easily fix _that_ the next morning, when I'd return."

We had a _good_ supper; the old lady's sympathies were aroused, and she set out her little delicacies for the

"Poor Texas boy, who was so far from home."

I was just hungry enough to have eaten everything they had prepared for the whole family; but, as I was on my good behavior, you know, by a mighty effort and struggle with the inner man I was able to postpone my appetite. There was only the old man, his wife, and the big lubberly son, and a colored mammy in the house. They were evidently "poor white trash," but they owned one slave, so old that she was like a broken-down horse or cow--very cheap.

I heard the old man talking earnestly to the son, and I imagined, of course, that the conversation was about myself--at such a time one's fears are aroused by every little incident.

"Trifles light as air, become proofs as strong as Holy Writ."

"Oh, no; you're mistaken, Father! Why, the poor fellow can't walk."

"But," replied the gruff voice of the old man, "he don't know where his regiment is."

Without further words the young fellow walked off. When the old man came back to the porch, where I had been sitting telling the old lady a sorrowful tale about my home, etc., he began:

"Where did you say you got your wound?"

"Why, it was a trifling hurt on the instep; it only became troublesome because I couldn't keep from using my foot."

Then the old lady chipped in with:

"Shall I send Mammy to help you bathe it with warm water, before you go to bed?"

I declined this with profuse thanks, and begged that they would not trouble themselves about it; it was a mere trifle.

After some more questions from the old man, which I was able to parry, I was ready for bed, glad enough to get away from him, and determined to clear out as soon as possible. They put me into a room which was in the attic, which extended across the width of the house; from this room there were windows opening on to the roof before described (two dormer windows), one in front and the other directly opposite, opening onto the roof of the porch. Before getting ready to lie down, I took a good look at the surroundings from both of these windows. I had become so accustomed to this, going to bed in the enemy's country, not knowing the condition in which I should find myself when I'd waken, that it became a sort of a habit with me to take my bearings, that I might be able to escape in case of fire.

I didn't "dress" my wound exactly, or undress myself for bed; in fact, there was nothing that I could strip off but the trousers, one shoe and a hat. With these all on, I lay down on top of the old-fashioned, cord bedstead, and, as described by some of the smart sayings that we used for texts in our copy-books at school--"Consider each night how you have spent the past day, and resolve to do better the next." Its awfully easy to get up these texts, but it's sometimes a little bit troublesome to apply the same thing to every-day life. I "resolved" easily enough to do better the following day--if I could. I wanted to get out of that country very badly, because I knew, as before stated, that the whole Rebel Army at Manassas would be on guard for spies at once.

My one hope was to get to Richmond and escape by some other route. While "resolving" further in my mind how to get along down that road in the morning, without this old man getting after me for my supper and lodging bill, I almost fell asleep. I was so tired that I could scarcely keep awake, yet I was afraid to trust myself in sleep.

The folks in the house had all been in bed some time; the lights were out, and everything became ominously quiet. My quick ear detected horses neighing and tramping, and an occasional voice in the night air reached my ear; but, as the sound seemed to die away so soon, I began to think myself mistaken, and was about to surrender myself to sleep, when aroused again by what was unmistakably horses galloping along the road.

I quickly, but painfully, jumped up from the bed, and stole quietly over to the front window just in time to see a troop of horsemen come up.

They were about to ride rapidly past when one of the fellows in the rear file called out: "Here's a house."

There was the jangling that always follows a sudden halt of cavalry, especially when following each other closely on a dark night. Some voices, in the nature of interrogations from an officer to his command, and a halt was made some little distance down the road past the house.

Two of the men wheeled and rode toward the front of the house, and, after looking about the grounds, talking in a tone of voice that did not admit of my getting distinctly the purport of the remarks, they both galloped back together to the command, which they had left standing in the road. I breathed freer, hoping they had decided to let us alone.

It would never do for that old man to have a chance to explain, in his way, my presence in the house. I felt devoutly thankful for the lucky escape I had again made, and had about concluded in my own mind to clear out silently, without the Virginia formality of saying good-by to my host, when I saw, with horror, that the whole troop had turned about and were walking their horses slowly back toward the house. I stood by the front dormer window of the old house, and you may imagine how eagerly I watched their every movement.

The officer in command halted his troop and, calling a trooper by name, said:

"Sergeant, you go up to the house and ask if they have seen any strangers along this road."

That was enough for me. I left that window as suddenly as if a gun had been pointed at me, and ran across the little room to the back window; it was open, the night being so warm, the sash held up by the customary window-stick. I got myself through the window with celerity and was about to let myself slide down the roof slowly to the eaves, so that I might catch on there and allow myself to further gently drop down on to one of the supporting posts, where I could slide down to the ground.

Stretching myself out in a feeling way on the roof, still holding on to the window sill, almost afraid to let go, when down came the window-sash striking me across the wrist so suddenly and severely that I involuntary let go my hold and, of course, slid down the roof feet foremost like a sled on an iced track, landing kerslop over the side on to the ground.

In my sudden descent I had caught hold of a lot of Virginia creepers that were trained up to the side of the back porch and had pulled them down with me, and lay for an instant all tangled up in them.

[Illustration: LANDING KERSLOP OVER THE SIDE ONTO THE GROUND]

If there is anything that will startle a man or a woman it is the sudden fall of a window-sash, because, in most cases, it makes such an infernal noise and does so little damage; but, in this case, luckily for me, perhaps, my poor hand was made to answer the purpose of a buffer and deadened the sound of the falling sash, otherwise it might have fallen, as sashes always do, and the noise have attracted the notice of the cavalrymen, who were on the road at the other side of the house. My quick shute from the up-stairs of the little old house to the ground was softened a little by the mass of vines that I had carried down with me.

The house only stood between me and a troop of pursuing cavalrymen.

Quickly realizing my precarious predicament, I gathered myself up, and, for a poor wounded crippled Texan with two canes, I made most elegant time, considering the darkness, straight back to the barnyard into the wood beyond. What happened at the house I never learned, as I did not stop to hear another word spoken.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON TO RICHMOND--A NIGHT OF TERROR--A GHASTLY FIND IN THE WOODS--ATTACKED BY BLOODHOUNDS--OTHER MIRACULOUS ESCAPES--FIRST VISIT TO FREDERICKSBURG--A COLLECTION TAKEN UP IN A CHURCH IN VIRGINIA FOR THE "BOY SPY"--ARRIVES IN RICHMOND.

When I heard the officer in command of the cavalry party give instructions to his Sergeant to inquire "if any strangers had been seen about there," I jumped to the conclusion that it was a detachment of Rebel cavalry that had been sent after me. It may have been that this party had received general instructions only--to look out for all strangers traveling over the roads; but I knew full well that the old man would make such a reply to any inquiries as would excite their suspicion and put me to the dangerous test of an examination.

In sliding off the back-porch roof so suddenly, I had further injured my already tired and swollen foot; but I seemed to forget all about it for the time, and ran off as lively as if I were just out of bed after a refreshing sleep.

I believe that they did not discover the "presence" of an enemy for some time after I had gotten off, or until the old man had been roused from his sleep; and I imagined, after a parley with him, the officer would accompany him to my room in the garret for the purpose of interviewing their guest.

What they thought when they found the bed empty, and nothing left of the poor Texas cripple but his two improvised crutches, I must leave to imagination.

I ran through the darkness wildly, recklessly, as fast as I could, scarcely knowing whither I was going, only feeling that each jump or step led me further from the cavalrymen. The night was quite dark. My course led me across a plowed field to a fence over which I climbed quickly, and plunged into a thicket or wood of small pine trees.

Once into this cover, I plodded along slowly, being obliged to pick my steps. It was blind traveling, and I avoided running into the briar bushes that are so plentiful in that part of Virginia. Through this thicket, every step, to my frightened wits, seemed sure to betray my presence by the breaking or snapping of the twigs and bushes.

I didn't know where it would lead me, but I could not for the life of me keep still a single moment. I felt impelled by some unseen power to keep going on, on--how long I dodged and scratched through the bushes and briars can not be told. I only remember that every few steps I would be obliged to halt, having run my face against some low, thorny limb of the heavy growth of saplings, that would almost bring the tears to my eyes from the smart pains inflicted. I carried my hat in my hand, as I always do when I'm hard-pressed, and my long hair, like that of Absalom, gave me a great deal of additional trouble.

I was soon beyond sight or sound of the cavalrymen, whom I had left in the road. I desired to keep near the roads leading toward Fredericksburg. I assumed that, in pursuing, these men would naturally imagine I had taken the back track to reach the railroad.

I sometimes almost despaired of getting far enough away from the house to prevent capture before daylight would come. When I'd stop for a few moments to untangle myself from the bushes, or to feel my way over a fallen tree, I'd imagine that the curious noises that every one hears in the stillness of the night in the woods were the echoes of the pursuing Rebels.

I feared above all things else that they would procure from some of the neighboring houses some dogs--bloodhounds, perhaps--that would be used to track me through the thicket. In this way a most miserable night passed.

Though I say it, who should not, I had less fear of the Rebels in arms than of the dogs. In all my adventures in their camps, I had preserved secretly, next to my body, the little Colt's five-shooter revolver. I knew how to use it. There were the five loads yet in it, that I had put in before leaving Pennsylvania, and I had resolved that four of them would be used against either Rebels or bloodhounds and the fifth would relieve me from further pursuit.

I admit freely that I was frightened; indeed, I was scared half to death, and would have given the world and all that was in it, if it were mine, to have gotten out of the miserable scrape in which I had voluntarily placed myself. Under such conditions even a frightened boy will become desperate.

I had deliberately determined to sell my life as dearly as possible, and, if they had not killed me, I should most certainly have done the business for myself rather than take any further chances in their hands.

This is the way I was feeling while resting for a few moments on an old log.

A picture of myself would show a smooth-faced youngster sitting "like a knot on a log," dressed in three-fourths of a shirt, a pair of torn trousers, one shoe and a half, bare-headed, long tangled hair, and I imagine an expression of countenance that would closely resemble the "Wild Boy of the Woods." I had torn off the greater part of my shirt to bandage a sore foot the evening previously.