Nick came to a halt, and we talked in low tones; we could see a hundred yards in every direction. "Where does that road go?" I asked. "Dat road," said Nick, pointing to the left; "hit goes to ole Young's Mill." "How far is old Young's Mill?" "I dunno ezackly; I reckon 'bout fo' mile." "Where does the right-hand lead?" "Hit goes to Mis Cheeseman's," said Nick; "en' at Mis Cheeseman's dey is calvry, on' at ole Young's Mill dey is calvry, but dey is on de yudda side o' de creek." "How far is it to Mrs. Cheeseman's?" "I dunno ezackly; I reckon 'bout fo' mile." We went on. The ground was again swampy. We came to a road running almost west; a church stood on the other side of the road. "Dat's Danby Chu'ch," said Nick, "en' dat road hit goes to Worrick." "And where does the right-hand lead?" "Hit goes to Mis Cheeseman's," said Nick. "And where is Young's Mill?" I asked. "Hit's right on dis same road we's on, en not fur off, nudda." We had now almost reached my first objective. I knew that Nick was telling me the truth, in the main, for the plan of the map was still before my mind's eye. "Can we get around Young's Mill without being seen?" I asked. "Dey's a picket-line dis side," said Nick. "How far this side?" "'Bout a quauta' en' a ha'f a quata.'" "How near can we get to the picket-line?" "We kin git mos' up to 'em, caze dey's got de trees cut down." "The trees cut down in their front?" "Yassa; dey's got mos' all de trees out down, so dey is." "And we can get to this edge of the felled timber?" "Yassa; we kin git to de falled timba', but we's got to go roun' de pon'." "And if we go around the pond first; we shall then find the picket-line?" "De picket-line at Young's Mill?" "Yes." "Ef we gits roun' de pon', we'll be done got roun' de picket-line, en' de trees w'at dey cut down, en' Young's Mill, en' all." "Well, then, Nick, lead the way around the pond, and keep your eyes wide open." Nick went forward again, but more slowly for a while; then he turned to the right, through the woods. We went a long distance and crossed a creek on a fallen log. I found that this negro could see in the darkness a great deal better than I could; where I should have groped my way, had I been alone, he went boldly enough, putting his foot down flat as though he could see where he was stepping. Nick said that there were no soldiers in these woods and swamps; they were all on the road and at Young's Mill, now a mile at our left. At length we reached the road again. By this time I was very tired; but, not wanting to confess it, I said to Nick that we should wait by the side of the road for a while, to see if any soldiers should pass. We sat in the bushes; soon Nick was on his back, asleep, and I was not sorry to see him go to sleep so quickly, for I felt sure that he would not have done so if he had meant to betray me.