bloodhounds on my destruction that they never swerved under the running fire of musketry; and I was forced out and driven into the woods again to the northwest of our lines.

Farther and farther away sounded the musketry in my ears, until the pounding pulses deadened and finally obliterated the sound. I could no longer carry the shattered and bloody fragment of my rifle, and dropped it. Bullet-pouch, shot-pouch, powder-horn, water-bottle, hatchet I let fall, keeping only my knife, belt, and the thin, flat wallet which contained my letters from Lois and my journal. Even my cap I flung away, moving always forward on a dog-trot, and ever twisting my sweat-drenched head to look behind.

Several times I caught distant glimpses of my pursuers, and saw that they walked sometimes, as though