He dropped flat on the ground and it took two hours to
crawl to a place of safety.
He felt these lines next morning where they were wider apart and found
them too dangerous to attempt. The pickets, at the point he approached,
were in an ugly mood and a desultory fire was kept up all day. The men
had bunched up two together and entrenched themselves, keeping a deadly
watch for the men in blue. He stood for half an hour close enough to see
every movement of two young pickets who evidently had some score to pay
and were hunting for their foe with quiet, deadly purpose.
"There's a Yank behind that clump," said one.
"Na--nothin' but a huckleberry bush," the other replied.
"Yes there is, too. We'll decoy and pot him. I'll get ready now and you
raise your cap on a ramrod above the hole. He'll lift his head to fire
and I'll get him."
The speaker cautiously slipped his musket in place and drew a bead on
the spot. His partner placed his hat on his ramrod and slowly lifted it
a foot above their hiding place.
The hat had scarcely cleared the pile of dirt before the musket flashed.
"I got him! I told you he was there!"
John turned from the scene with a sense of sickening horror. He would
die for his country, but he hoped he would not be called on to kill
again.
He made a wide detour and attempted to cross the lines five miles
further from the city and walked suddenly into a squad of grey soldiers
in command of a lieutenant.
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