He turned away. I followed him. I could see that his uniform was new. We reached the edge of the gully, and stood still. Now I could see the pits. The gully was deeper up the hill. There was a pit on either edge of the gully, which was about forty feet wide. Had I known of the existence of that gully, I could have stolen through the picket-line in the night--but perhaps they had it guarded at night. "Say," said my companion, "why didn't you go back on your own side?" "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," said I. He was two steps ahead of me--a man of small stature. His shoes and his clothing up to his knees were almost as muddy as mine. He walked slowly up the hill. In a very few minutes we should be within the picket-line; it took all my will to preserve composure; I was glad the man was in front of me. We stepped slowly up the hill. I could see nobody at the pits. The pickets were lying down, probably, half of them asleep, the other half awake but at ease, I was wishing my leader would speak again. The nervous tension was hard. What should I do when we reached the line? I had no plan, except to walk on. I wished my leader would continue to march, and go past the pits--then I could follow him; the trivial suggestion aroused self-contempt; I was thinking of straws to catch at. I must strengthen my will. He had made four steps; he said, "Sun's up." This was not much of an opening. I managed to respond, "Don't see it, myself." "Look at that big pine up yonder," said he. "Be another hot day," said I; "wish I was up there." "What for?" "So I could get some sleep." "You won't git any down here in this old field; that's shore." "That's what's a-troublin' me," said I; "and I've got to take care of myself." "Ben sick?" "No, not down sick; but the hot sun don't do me any good." "Bilious, I reckon," said he. "No," said I, "not bilious; it's my head." "Bet I'd go to the surgeon, then, ef it was me," he said. "Wish I _could_ see the Doctor," I replied, spelling the word, mentally, with a capital. "Well, why don't you tell your captain to let you go back?" "You don't know my captain," said I. "Hard on you, is he?" "Well, hard ain't the word; but I wouldn't risk asking him out here." "Bet _I'd_ go, anyhow, ef it was me," said he. "If he should see me going, know what he'd do?" "What?" "Send a man after me." "Well, you jest come along with, me. Bet _our_ men won't stop you; you don't belong to _them_." This was just what I wanted; but I was afraid to show any eagerness. We were almost at the picket-line, and I had no doubt that my friend was marching straight toward his own rifle-pit; he was surely on the left of his company--he was such a small man. "Stop," said I. He halted, and turned to me. He was a good-looking young fellow. He had the palmetto button on his coat. Our eyes met. "You won't give me away?" I said. "What do you take me for?" he asked.