A small man in
butternut and an enormous felt hat passed near. He did not see Dick,
but his very presence gave the lad a shiver. He believed afterward that
before he saw him he had felt the proximity of Slade.
The man, carrying a rifle, was hurrying toward the center of the town,
and Dick, after one long look, hurried at equal speed the other way.
He knew that Slade, if he saw him, would recognize him at once. Dusk and
a muddy uniform would not protect him.
It was his idea now to go down through the ravines and make another trial
toward the South. He saw ahead of him a line of intrenchments, which he
was resolved to pass in some fashion, but the face of fortune was still
away from him. The unknown officers who at any time might ask too many
questions appeared.
A captain, a sunbrowned, alert man, stopped him at the edge of the bushes
which clothed the slopes of the ravine.
"Your regiment?" he asked sharply.
"Tennessee regiment, sir," replied Dick, afraid to mention any number,
since this officer might be a Tennesseean himself, and would want further
identification.
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