Once safely beyond interruption, the refugee put spurs to his horse and rode swiftly forward. By and by, with the mountain fairly left behind, he checked his horse and fell into reflections upon his home--his wife--his children. Should he ever see them again? Perhaps not--certainly not soon--probably not for years. And then, what would be his personal future? The perils which ordinarily attend human life are doubly increased to one adventuring as he was among strangers at a time when the whole country was involved in violent conflict. Gathering together the reins that hung loosely on his horse’s neck, and lifting up his head he saw just before him a company of armed men. “Ah, then,” was his thought, “I am to be foiled after all, and taken back a prisoner to the Gap.” Rallying courage, he rode forward, asked for a drink of water, and was told to help himself with a gourd from the spring near by. The men looked at him with curious and suspicious eyes. One of them said to him bluntly: “What are you: Union man or Confederate?” “Now, gentlemen,” said he, “that’s hardly a fair question. As you are decidedly in the majority, it seems only right that you should first tell me what you are.” He was answered with a smile, but was also assured that their question could not be met with such evasion. He then boldly said he was for the Union. “So are we,” they replied. “These rebels have come and taken possession of the Gap, and we Kentuckians have met here to see what they are after.” From that friendly encounter the refugee went forward without molestation to his journey’s end, volunteered in the service of the United States army and was appointed a surgeon.