Things had really become serious, and Diggs was in momentary danger of the ponderous saber, which the cavalryman flourished threateningly in the air as he came on like the wind. They had been flying over a level piece of cleared land, but now a thick body of timber and brush loomed up before them. There was yet a chance. Once in the timber, Diggs might elude his dangerous pursuer. The Confederate cavalryman evidently understood this, for, with a whack he sent his saber into the scabbard, and drew his pistol, without once slacking his speed. "Oh, Lordy! I shall be killed this time sure," bawled Diggs. Again he glanced toward the cavalryman and saw him raise his deadly weapon. Diggs yelled, screamed, and implored, all the while urging January to greater speed. The wood was almost at hand. "Bang!" went the pistol, and Diggs felt a sharp pain, as if a red-hot iron had been suddenly jerked across the top of his left shoulder. "Oh, I am killed! I am killed!" he yelled, as January plunged into the thick underbrush. The Confederate evidently believing he had killed the Yankee (having, indeed, the Yankee's own word for it), turned and dashed away. January had not gone twenty yards in his mad race through the woods before he plunged into the mill-stream. Diggs' wound was not serious and the water was shallow, so he soon managed to crawl out on the opposite side, where he seated himself for a moment at the foot of a tree, gasping, spitting, and sneezing, the water running from his clothes in rivulets. "This soldier business don't suit me," he muttered, "and I know I shall be killed if I don't quit it. It is nothing but duckings, falls, being torn with thorns and shot with guns--" A sharp firing in the woods roused him to a reality of his situation, and, mounting the dripping January, he galloped away to join his regiment. CHAPTER XVII. A SOLDIER'S TURKEY HUNT. The armies of the North and the armies of the South had been concentrating for months prior to the battle of Bull Run, resulting in the defeat of the Northern troops and in heavy loss to both sides; after collision came recoil, as of mighty waves dashing against a rock bound coast. Predatory bands of disorganized soldiers from both sides roamed the country, and, in many instances, not plundering merely, but ruthlessly destroying what they could not seize.