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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 52, February, 1862"


The business which detained me in the rear was finished at an early
hour, but I waited in order to accompany General Asboth, who, with some
of his staff, was intending to go to head-quarters, five miles farther
south. We set out at nine o'clock. General Asboth likes to ride at the
top of his horse's speed, and at once put his gray into a trot so rapid
that we were compelled to gallop in order to keep up. We dashed over
a rough road, down a steep decline, and suddenly found ourselves
floundering through a stream nearly up to our saddle-girths. My horse
had had a hard day's work. He began to be unsteady on his pins. So I
drew up, preferring the hazards of a night-ride across the prairie to
a fall upon the stony road. The impetuous old soldier, followed by his
companions, rushed into the darkness, and the clatter of their hoofs and
the rattling of their sabres faded from my hearing.
I was once more alone on the prairie. The sky was cloudless, but the
starlight struggling through a thin haze suggested rather than revealed
surrounding objects. I bent over my horse's shoulder to trace the course
of the road; but I could see nothing. There were no trees, no fences.
I listened for the rustling of the wind over the prairie-grass; but as
soon as Spitfire stopped, I found that not a breath of air was stirring:
his motion had created the breeze. I turned a little to the left, and at
once felt the Mexican stirrup strike against the long, rank grass.


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