Even though he
searched with his glasses he could not see soldiers anywhere, although he
knew they were in the hollows and the forests. A pleasant breeze blew,
and an owl, reckless of armies, sent forth its lonesome hoot.
But he kept his horse's head straight for the narrow valley where the
"rebel raiders" rode. He met presently a small detachment of Connecticut
men, but the sight of his canteen and letter was sufficient for them.
Again he rode southwest, merely to turn due west once more, after he had
passed from their sight, and near the head of the valley he encountered
two men in blue on horseback watching. They were alert, well-built
fellows and examined Harry closely, a process to which long usage had
reconciled him.
"I hear that the rebels are down in that valley, comrade," he said.
"So they are," replied the elder and larger of the men. "We've got to
ask you who you are and which way you're going."
"John Haskell, Fifth Pennsylvania, with dispatches from General Meade to
General Pleasanton. They're tremendously important, too, and I've got to
be in a hurry."
"More haste less speed. You know the old saying. In a time like this
it's sometimes better for a man to know where he's going than it is to
get there, 'cause he may arrive at the wrong place.
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