Ez Harry Glen sez, the circle o' my onpleasant acquaintances--the fellers thet's reachin' fur my top-knot--widens.Thar's so many more on 'em layin' fur me all the time, thet the prospects keeps gittin' brighter every day thet by-an'-by they'll fetch me.the arrant I'm a-gwine on now is too important ter take any resks 'bout.I'm sartin to git the information thet Gineral Rosy wants, but whether I kin git hit back ter him is ruther dubersome.I must hev 'some help.Will ye jine in with me?""But how am I to know that all this is as you say?""By readin' these 'ere passes, all signed by Gineral Rosencrans's own hand, or by takin' a walk with me up ter headquarters, whar they'll tell ye thet I'm all right, an' ez straight ez a string.""But how can I do what you want? I know nothing of the country, nor the people, and still less of this kind of service.I would probably make a blunder that would spoil all.""I'll resk the blunders.ye kin ride critter-back can't ye?"Rachel owned that she was a pretty fair horse-woman.
"Then all ye hev ter do is ter git yerself up ez ye see the young women who are ridin' 'round heah, an' airly on the day arter to-morrow mornin', mount a blooded mar that ye'll find standin'
afore the door thar, all rigged out ez fine ez silk, an' go down the Lavergne turnpike, at a sharp canter, jes ez though ye war gwine somewhar.Nobody on our lines 'll be likely ter say anything ter ye, but ef they do, ye'll show 'em a pass from Gineral Rosy, which, howsoever, ye 'll tar up afore ye reach Lavergne, fur ye 'll likely find some o' t' other folks thar.Ef any o' them at Lavergne axes ye imperent questions, ye must hev a story ready 'bout yer being the Nashville niece o' Aunt Debby Brill, who lives on the left hand o' the Nashville pike, jest north o' the public squar in Murfreesboro, an' ye 're on yer way ter pay yer ole Aunty a long-promised visit.""there is such a woman in Murfreesboro?"
"Yes, an' she's talked a great deal 'bout her niece in Nashville, who's comin' ter see her.I thought"--the earnestness of the eyes relaxed to a suspicion of a twinkle--"thet sometime I mout come across sich a niece fur the ole lady, an' hit wuz well ter be prepared fur her.""But suppose they ask me about things in Nashville?""W'll, ye must fix up a story 'bout thet too.Ye needn't be ver partickelar what hit is, so long's hit's awful savage on the Yankees.Be keerful ter say frequently thet the yankees is awful sick o' their job o' holdin' Nashville; that their new Dutch Gineral is a mean brute, an' a coward beside, thet he's skeered 'bout out'n his wits half the time, an' he's buildin' the biggest kind o' forts to hide behind, an' thet he won't dar show his nose outside o' them--leastways not this 'ere Winter.Talk ez much ez ye kin 'bout the sojers gwine inter Winter quarters; 'bout them being mortally sartin not ter do anything tell next Spring, an'
'bout them desartin' by rijimints an' brigades, an' gwine home, bekase they're sick an' tired o' the war.""My," said Rachel, with a gasp, "what awful things to tell!""Yes," returned the scout complacently, "I s'posed hit'd strike you thet-a-way.But my experience with war is thet hit's jest plum full o' awful things.In fact hit don't seem ter hev much else in hit.All ye hev ter ax yerself is whether this is nigh on ter ez awful ez the the things they 'uns do to we 'uns.Besides, we 'uns are likely ter give they 'uns in a few days a heap more interestin'
things ter think about then the remarkable stories told by young ladies out fur a mornin' ride.""I'll take some hours to think this matter over," said Rachel, "and give you your answer this afternoon.That'll be time enough, will it not?""Heaps an' plenty, ma'am," he answered, as he rose to go."She'll go," he added to himself."I'm not fooled a mite on thet 'ere stock.I'll jest go to headquarters an' git things ready for her."He was right.The prospect of doing an important service on a grand occasion was stimulous enough for Rachel's daring spirit, to make her undertake anything, and when Fortner returned in the afternoon he found her eager to set out upon the enterprise.
But as the evening came on with its depressing shadows and silence, she felt the natural reaction that follows taking an irrevocable step.The loneliness of her unlighted room was peopled with ghostly memories of the horrors inflicted upon spies, and of tales she had heard of the merciless cruelty of the Rebels among whom she was going.She had to hold her breath to keep from shrieking aloud at the terrors conjured up before her vision.Then the spasm passed, and braver thoughts reasserted themselves.Fortner's inadvertent words of praise of Harry Glen were recalled, and began glowing like pots of incense to sweeten and purify the choking vapors in her imagination.
Could it be that Harry had really retrieved himself? He had certainly gained the not-easily-won admiration of this brave man, and it had all been to render himself worthy of her! There was rapture in the thought.Then her own heroic aspirations welled up again, bringing intoxication at the prospect of ending the distasteful routine of nursing, by taking an active part in what would be a grand event of history.Fears and misgivings vanished like the mists of the morning.She thought only of how to accomplish her mission.
She lighted a candle and wrote four letters--one to her mother, one to Dr.Denslow, one to Harry Glen in care of his mother, and one to the Hospital Steward, asking him to mail the letters in case he did not receive any contrary request from her before the 10th of January.
She was too excited to sleep in the early part of the night, and busied her waking hours in packing her clothing and books, and maturing her plans.
