Harry understood. If the mud held him back sufficiently
they might pass around the field and catch him on the other side.
He continued to lead his horse, encouraging him with words of entreaty
and praise.
"Come on!" he cried. "You won't let a little mud bother you. You
wouldn't let yourself be overtaken by a lot of half-bred horses not fit
to associate with you?"
The brave animal responded nobly, and what had been the far edge of the
field was rapidly coming nearer. Beyond it lay woods. But the flanking
movement threatened. The two detachments were passing around the field
on firm ground, and Harry knew that he and his good horse must hasten.
He talked to him continually, boasting about him, and together they
reached the fence, which he threw down in all haste. Then he led his
weary horse out of the mud, sprang upon his back and galloped into the
bushes.
He knew that the horses passing around the field on firm ground would be
fresh, and that he must find temporary hiding, at least as soon as he
could. He was in deep thickets now and he galloped on, careless how
the bushes scratched him and tore his uniform. The Union cavalry would
surely follow, but he wanted a little breathing time for his horse,
and in eight or ten minutes he stopped in the dense undergrowth.
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