and the ruts left by battery wheels were still in evidence, the frozen ridges making fast riding impossible. There were no villages, and only a few scattered houses, but the night was not so dark as to prevent fairly rapid progress. When dawn came we were to the west of Waynesboro, in broken country, and all through those long night hours scarcely a word had been exchanged between us. We camped finally in the bend of a small stream, where high banks concealed us from observation. There was little to eat in our haversacks, but we munched what we had, and Taylor, his eyes on the horses, broke the silence.
"I reckon the critters don't need mor'n a couple hours' rest," he said. "They ain't been rid noways hard, an' I'm fer gittin' through the gap durin' daylight—the road ain't overly good just now."
"Across the mountains? Is there a gap here?"
"Ther road ter Hot Springs is 'bout two miles below yer. I cum over it ten days ago an' I reckon I kin find my way back. It's 'bout forty miles frum thar ter Lewisburg, mostly hills, but a good trail. I know folks et Hot Springs who will take good keer o' us, onct we git thar."
We rested dozing, but neither sound asleep, for nearly three hours. Whatever might be in Taylor's mind, the lonely night had brought to me a new
