"
And saluting, I went out.
From the captured horses I selected the best one I could find, and
burying the spurs in his sides, set out through the black night.
XX.
THE HOUSE BETWEEN CARLISLE AND GETTYSBURG.
You know when you set out, the proverb says, but you know not when you
will arrive.
I left Carlisle, breasting the night, on the road to Gettysburg, little
thinking that a curious incident was to occur to me upon the way--an
incident closely connected with the destinies of some personages who
play prominent parts in this history.
I had ridden on for more than an hour, through the darkness, keeping a
good look-out for the enemy, whose scouting parties of cavalry were
known to be prowling around, when all at once, my horse, who was going
at full speed, struck his foot against a sharp point of rock, cropping
out from the surface.
The animal stumbled, recovered himself, and went on as rapidly as
before. A hundred yards further his speed relaxed; then he began to
limp painfully; then in spite of every application of the spur I could
not force him out of a slow limping trot.
It was truly unfortunate. I was the bearer of an important message, and
was surrounded by enemies. The only chance was to pass through them,
under shadow of the darkness; with light they would perceive me, and my
capture be certain.
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