Harry felt that he had indeed fallen into the hands of a friend, and
stretching himself on a pallet which the charcoal burner spread in front
of the fire, he soon fell asleep. He awoke when Perkins shook his
shoulder and found that it was dawn.
"The rain's stopped, day's come an' I guess you'd better be goin'"
said the man. "I've got breakfast ready for you, an' I hope, boy,
that you'll get through with a whole skin. I said that both sides would
have to fight this war without my help, but I don't mind givin' a boy
a hand when he needs it."
Harry did not say much, but he was deeply grateful. After breakfast he
mounted his horse, received careful directions from Perkins and rode
toward Washington. The whole forest was fresh and green after its heavy
bath, and birds, rejoicing in the morning, sang in every bush. Harry's
elation returned. Clothes impart a certain quality, and, dressed in
a charcoal burner's Sunday best, he began to bear himself like one.
He rode in a slouchy manner, and he transferred the pistols from his
belt to the large inside pockets of his new coat. As he passed in an
hour from the forest into a rolling open country, he saw that Perkins
had advised him wisely. Dressed in the Confederate uniform he would
certainly have had trouble before he made the first mile.
He saw the camps of troops both to right and left and he knew that these
were the flank of the Northern army. Then from the crest of another
hill he caught his second view of Washington. The gleam from the dome
of the Capitol was much more vivid now, and he saw other white buildings
amid the foliage. Since he had become technically a spy through the
mere force of circumstances, Harry took a daring resolve. He would
enter Washington itself. They were all one people, Yanks and Johnny
Rebs, and no one could possibly know that he was from the Southern army.
Only one question bothered him. He did not know what to do with the
horse.
But he rode briskly ahead, trusting that the problem of the horse would
solve itself, and, as he turned a field, several men in blue uniforms
rode forward and ordered him to halt. Harry obeyed promptly.
"Where are you going?" asked the leading man, a minor officer.
"To Washin'ton," replied the boy in the uncouth language that he thought
fitted his role.
"And what are you going to Washington for?"
"To sell this hoss," replied Harry, on the impulse of the moment.
"I raised him myself, but he's too fine fur me to ride, specially when
hosses are bringin' sech good prices."
"He is a fine animal," said the officer, looking at him longingly.
"Do you want to sell him now?"
Harry shook his head.
"No," he replied. "I'm goin' to make one o' them big bugs in Washin'ton
pay fur him an' pay fur him good."
The officer laughed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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