A few moments' listening confirmed my worst fears. They were after us with their blood-hounds! not one pack alone, but all in the country, as the widening circle from which their dismal baying echoed revealed but too plainly. There was no longer safety in idleness. Yet the fearful sound was not without use in supplying a guide to flight, and I am now convinced that throughout the whole chase the dogs were of more real service to us than to our pursuers, as they rendered a surprise less probable. But none the less did they add to the repulsiveness and terror of our position. Away across the hills and streams I sped, I know not how far,--I only know that the noise of the dogs grew fainter as the evening wore on. I had distanced them and began to breathe more freely. I even indulged the hope of being able to work my way ultimately to the Federal lines. Had the clouds permitted travelling by the sun and stars, this hope might have been realized. As I descended the long slope of a wooded hill into a solitary valley, I saw a rude hut, with a man working in a cultivated patch beside it. Believing that he could not yet have heard of our adventure, I determined to risk something in order to get information. I also felt sure that one man could not arrest me. Approaching, I asked the road to Chattanooga, and the distance. He pointed the way, and told me that it was eight miles. Adding this information to the general knowledge I had of the geography of that district, it gave me some notion of my whereabouts. I did not wish to get any nearer the rebel town, as I rightly judged that in its vicinity pursuit would be most vigorous, but I continued my journey in that direction until out of sight, when I climbed the hill at right angles to my former course. This course was maintained for some hours, when an incident occurred which would have been amusing but for the fearful perils environing me. I had often heard of lost persons travelling in a circle, but never gave much credit to such stories. Now, I had the proof of their credibility. I believe philosophers explain the phenomenon by saying that one side of the body has a little more vigor than the other, and that when we have no guide to direct us, the stronger side (usually the right), by its tendency to go ahead of the other side, gradually turns us in the opposite direction. In other words, the right foot outwalks the left, and thus, like a carriage-horse swifter than its mate in a driverless team, can only describe perpetual circles until the will-power again takes hold of the reins. But at this time I had never heard of such theories, and the following experiences presented themselves to my mind as an inexplicable and terrifying fatality.