University of Virginia Library

XIII.
A MOONLIGHT RIDE.

It was a singular ride.

For half a mile not a word was exchanged; the
soft road deadened the sound of the horses' hoofs;
animals and riders might have been taken, in the
weird moonlight, for phantoms.

I continued to direct my pistol at Ratcliffe's
breast, and to hold the bridle of his horse.

Going on thus rapidly, we crossed a little stream
and entered a forest, through which the moonlight
scarcely penetrated sufficiently to indicate the road.

All at once it occurred to me that we might run
into a Federal picket, and I said:—

“Is there a picket near here, Captain Ratcliffe?”

He made no reply.

“I ask you if there is a picket in these woods?”

He preserved the same sullen silence, and I began
to lose my temper.

Leaning over, and placing the muzzle of my pistol
close to his head, I said:—

“You will reply to my question!”

“There is no picket anywhere here,” he growled.

“Good!” I said. “It seems to me you might
have given a civil answer to a civil question at first,
sir.”

All at once I saw him turn his head and listen;
I imitated the worthy, and heard distinctly the sound
of hoofs coming on behind us, — the horses evidently
at a headlong gallop.

I could see Ratcliffe's face flush in the moonlight,
and an instant afterward he attempted a ruse to
escape.

We were passing at full speed over the narrow
woodland road, and had much difficulty in avoiding
the trees. As we approached one nearly in the
middle of the road, I felt Ratcliffe gradually oblique
his horse to the left, and all at once the aim of this
manœuvre became apparent. If he could pass just
to the left of the tree, while I passed to the right, I
would necessarily be compelled to release my hold
upon his bridle, and then, by suddenly wheeling his
horse, he might escape.

Unfortunately for him, I divined his intention.
I allowed him to oblique more and more to the left,
— the tree was now within a few feet of us, and the
animals were about to pass to the right and left of
it,—when I suddenly drew Ratcliffe's bridle violently
toward me, and passed with him close to the tree,
and on the right of it.

The consequence was that his knee struck the

trunk, his boot was nearly torn from his leg, and he
uttered a deep groan.

“Another attempt of that sort and you are dead!”
I said.

“You would fire on an unarmed prisoner, then?”
he muttered.

“Attempting escape? yes. Try it, try it, my
dear Captain Ratcliffe! Your friends yonder are
gaining on us.”

He turned his head and the flush of hope deepened.
That made the blood mount to my own
brain.

“They are coming! they may recapture you. I
would much rather have them recapture your dead
body.”

But bad fortune was in store for me. As I spoke,
my horse ran in the darkness against a sharp granite
ledge cropping out from the bank, staggered, and,
going ten paces, reeled and fell with me.

As he did so, I heard a loud cheer behind, and
the pursuing party came on like a thunder-gust.

I rose quickly from my struggling horse. I had
never released my clutch on Ratcliffe's bridle.

“Dismount!” I shouted, putting my pistol to his
breast, “or — ”

He did not let me finish. In half a second he
had thrown himself from the saddle, and I vaulted
into his place just as the pursuers rushed on, shouting

and firing. I did not tarry. Burying the spur
in Ratcliffe's horse, which was an excellent animal,
I went on at full speed; heard the men behind me
draw rein a few moments, and shout to Ratcliffe;
then they came on again upon my track.

But the delay had saved me. Arrested by the
fallen horse in the middle of the road, the party had
stopped for two or three minutes: those minutes I
had utilized to their utmost. I now turned into a
woodland path on the right, which I followed at the
utmost speed of my horse, and then I had the great
satisfaction of hearing the Federal cavalry rush by
on the road which I had left.

Their prey had escaped.