Trot, trot, trot, trot, through the mud, and up the slope! There is something in a night march across a hostile country, something in the caution which is necessary, in the low curt orders, and the excitement, which appeals strongly to the spirit of a soldier. In spite of the sudden halts and jolting starts which many a time put my fortitude to the test, in spite of sad thoughts—for surely to be misread by one we love is sharper than a serpent’s tooth!—I began to take pleasure in what was passing. Whether we wound quickly over the flank of a hill with moonlight gleaming on spur and bit, or tracked the course of a stream through a fern-clad ravine, where the mimosas and the yellow jessamine scented the spray, or plunged knee-deep through a quaking bog where the clamor of the frogs covered the splashing of the horses, I owned the charm. Regret began to give place to ambition. Since I was free I longed also to be hale and strong. I yearned to be in the field once more. After all, life held war as well as love; war that on such a night puts on its fairest face, its garb of Border story; love that on such a march seems sad and distant, bright and pure, as the star that gleams through the wrack of clouds above us. The sun was an hour high when, a long line of crawling horses and weary men, we surmounted the last ridge and sighted far to the south of us the dark head of Rocky Mountain. Fishing Creek, the bridge, and the distant valley of the Catawba lay below us, and by and by we espied Tarleton’s pickets thrown far out as was his custom. I could endure the shaking no longer, and at this point I slid from the saddle, and trudged down the last mile on my feet. From the Camp below rose presently a sound of cheering voices! The men had counted our number as we descended the face of the hill, and they had made us one more than had started on the expedition the day before. Ten minutes later the old flag waved over our heads, I was safe as well as free. Tarleton, with the courteous insouciance which was natural to him and which could at need give place to an unsparing energy, came forward to welcome me to his camp. * * * * * “My lord Rawdon’s compliments, sir, and he will be glad if you will report yourself at his quarters.” “Very good,” I said. “Does his lordship wish to see me at once?” “I believe so, sir.” “Very good, Tomkins. I will be with his lordship as soon as I can borrow a sword.”