I found them a sturdy looking lot, but, as they composed a portion of the commander's personal guard, somewhat better attired than I was accustomed to seeing Confederate soldiers. I possessed a field officer's prejudice relative to escort soldiery, yet their equipment looked well, they sat their horses easily, and I could find nothing worthy of criticism. I should have preferred riding at the head of men from my old troop, but in all probability we would none of us be called upon to draw a sabre. “Are you all ready, Sergeant?” I asked of the rather heavy-weight German who stood fronting me, his broad, red face as impassive as though carved from stone. “Ve vos, Captain.” “Where is the guide?” “Dot is him, mit der mule, ain't it?” he answered, pointing with one huge hand down the road. “Very well, we will pick him up then as we go.” I cared so little as to whether or not he accompanied us at all, that we had advanced some distance before the thought of him again occurred to me. I knew the gentry fairly well, and had experienced in the past so many evidences of their stupidity, if not actual disloyalty, as to prefer my own knowledge of the country to theirs. My thought, indeed, for several miles was not at all with the little party of troopers jogging steadily at my heels, nor, in truth, was it greatly concerned with the fate of the expedition. That was but service routine, and I rode forward carelessly enough, never once dreaming that every hour of progress was bearing me toward the most important adventure of my life. So I feel we constantly advance into the future; and it is well that we do not know, for few would possess the necessary courage if beforehand we might perceive the sorrows and the dangers. Outside my military duties I had but one thought in those days--Edith Brennan. The great struggle was rapidly drawing to its close; hope of future military preferment could no longer inspire a Confederate soldier, for we realized fully we were battling in a lost cause. All ambition which I might otherwise have experienced was therefore concentrated by this fate upon the woman I loved. And how earnestly I endeavored not to love her; how I sought to stifle such feeling, to remain true to what I deemed my highest duty to her and to my own honor! And yet she remained my constant dream. I thought of her now as I rode into the west. Somewhere out yonder, amid those distant blue hills--ay! even within the very zone of my present duty--it was possible she yet waited for the war to cease. I wished in my heart I might again meet her, and then roundly denounced myself as a cur for having such a desire. Yet again and again would the fond hope recur, surging up unbidden into my brain as I rode steadily forward, oblivious of both distance and pace, the sinking sun full in my eyes, yet utterly forgetful of the hoof-beats pounding along behind me. It was the German sergeant who recalled me to the responsibilities of command.