The canvas was drawn aside, and I was lifted up and carefully
deposited in the hay that thickly covered the bottom. It was so
intensely dark within I could see nothing of my immediate surroundings,
but a low moan told me there must be at least one other wounded man
present. Outside I heard the tread of horses' hoofs, and then the sound
of Mosby's voice.
"Jake," he said, "drive rapidly, but with as much care as possible.
Take the lower road after you cross the bridge, and you will meet with
no patrols. We will ride beside you for a couple of miles."
Then a hand thrust aside the canvas, and a face peered in. I caught a
faint glimmer of stars, but could distinguish little else.
"Boys," said the leader, kindly, "I wish I might give you better
transportation, but this is the only form of vehicle we can find. I
reckon you'll get pretty badly bumped over the road you are going, but
I'm furnishing you all the chance to get away in my power."
"For one I am grateful enough," I answered, after waiting for some one
else to speak. "A little pain is preferable to imprisonment."
"After you pass the bridge you will be perfectly safe on that score,"
he said heartily. "Anything more I can do for any of you?"
"How many of us are there?" asked some one faintly from out the
darkness.
"Oh, yes," returned Mosby, with a laugh, "I forgot; you will want to
know each other.
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