“Thet's hit. Thet's hit. But lay all the stres ye kin on the movin' around ter ther left. Thar's mo' mischief in thet than all the rest. Say thet thar's 20,000 men gwine round thar this arternoon an' evening'. Say thet thar's the biggest thunder-cloud o' danger thet enny one ever seed. Say hit over an' over, tell everybody understands hit an' gits ready ter meet hit. Tell hit till ye've made ev'ry one on 'em understand thet thar can't be no mistake about hit, an' they must look out fur heeps o' trouble on ther right. Tell hit ez ye never tole anything afore in yer life. Tell hit ez ye'd pray God Almighty fur the life o' the one thet ye love better then all the world beside. An' GIT THAR ter tell hit--git thru the Rebel lines--ef ye love yer God an' yer country, an' ye want ter see the brave men who are ter die tomorrer make their deaths count somethin' to'ard savin' this Union. Hit may be thet yore information'll save the army from defeat. Hit may be--hit's most likely--thet hit'll save the lives o' thousands o' brave men who love ther lives even ez yo an' me loves ourn.” “Trust me to do all that a devoted woman can. I will get through before daybreak or die in the attempt. But how am I to go?” “Hide this paper somewhar. Aunt Debby'll fix ye up ez a country gal, while I'm gittin' yer mar saddled an' bridled with some common harness, instid o' the fancy fixin's ye hed when ye rode out heah. Ef ye're stopt, ez ye likely will be, say that ye've been ter town fur the doctor, an' some medicine fur yer sick mammy, an' are tryin' ter git back ter yer home on the south fork o' Overall's Creek. Now, go an' git ready ez quick ez the Lord'll let ye.” As she heard the mare's hoofs in front of the door, Rachel came out with a “slat-sun-bonnet” on her head, and a long, black calico riding-skirt over her linsey dress. Fortner gave her attire an approving nod. Aunt Debby followed her with a bottle. “This is the medicine ye've bin ter git from Dr. Thacker heah in town,” she said, handing the vial. “Remember the name, fur fear ye mout meet some one who knows the town. Dr. Thacker, who lives a little piece offen the square, an' gives big doses of epecac fur everything, from brakebone fever ter the itch.” “Dr. Thacker, who lives just off the square,” said Rachel. “I'll be certain to remember.” “Take this, too,” said Fortner, handing her a finely-finished revolver, of rather large caliber. “Don't pull hit onless ye can't git along without hit, an' then make sho o' yer man. Salt him.”