“I could not forget him, sir. One of our most gallant officers.”
“You speak truly. He is one of our bravest, and also one of our ablest. I speak of him as Major Hertford, but he has lately been promoted to the rank of colonel, and he is operating toward the East with a large body of cavalry, partly in conjunction with Grierson, who saved us at the ford.”
“And you want me to reach him, sir!”
“You’ve divined it. He is near Jackson, the capital of this state, and, incidentally, you’re to discover as much as you can about Jackson and the Confederate dispositions in that direction. We wish Hertford to join General Grant’s advance, which will presently move toward Jackson, and we rely upon you to find him.”
“I’ll do it, if he’s to be found at all,” said Dick fervently.
“I knew it, but, Dick, you’re to go in your uniform. I’ll not have you executed as a spy in case you’re taken. Nor are you to carry any written message to Colonel Hertford. He knows you well, and he’ll accept your word at once as truth. Now, this is a ride that will call for woodcraft as well as soldiership.”
“I start at once, do I not, sir?”
“You do. Warner and Pennington are ready now, and your own horse is waiting for you. Here is a small map which I have reason to believe is accurate, at least fairly so, although few of our men know much of this country. But use it, lad, as best you can.”
It was a sheet of thick fibrous paper about six inches square and, after a hasty glance at it, Dick folded it up carefully and put it in his pocket. Warner and Pennington appeared then, mounted and armed and ready to tell him good-bye. He and Colonel Winchester watched them a moment or two as they rode away, and then an orderly appeared with Dick’s own horse, a fine bay, saddled, bridled, saddlebags filled with food, pistols in holsters, and a breech-loading rifle strapped to the saddle.
“I’ve made your equipment the best I could,” said Colonel Winchester, “and after you start, lad, you must use your own judgment.”
He wrung the hand of the boy, for whom his affection was genuine and deep, and Dick sprang into the saddle.
“Good-bye, colonel,” he said, “I thank you for this trust, and I won’t fail.”
It was not a boast. It was courage speaking from the heart of youth and, as Dick rode out of the camp on his good horse, he considered himself equal to any task. He felt an enormous pride because he was chosen for such an important and perilous mission, and he summoned every faculty to meet its hardships and dangers.
He had the password, and the sentinels wished him good luck. So did the men who were gathering firewood. One, a small, weazened fellow, gave him an envious look.
“Wish I was going riding with you,” he said. “It’s fine in the woods now.”
Dick laughed through sheer exuberance of spirits.
“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t,” he said. “Perhaps the forest is filled with rebel sharpshooters.”
“If you ride toward Jackson you’re likely to strike Confederate bands.”
“I didn’t say where I’m going, but you may be certain I’ll keep a watch for those bands wherever I may be.”
The little man was uncommonly strong nevertheless, as he carried on his shoulder a heavy log which he threw down by one of the fires, but Dick, absorbed in his journey, forgot the desire of the soldier to be riding through the forest too.
He soon left the camp behind. He looked back at it only once, and beheld the luminous glow of the campfires. Then the forest shut it out and he rode on through a region almost abandoned by its people owing to the converging armies. He did not yet look at his map, because he knew that he would soon come into the main road to Jackson. It would be sufficient to determine his course then.
Dick was not familiar with the farther South, which was a very different region from his own Kentucky. His home was a region of firm land, hills and clear streams, but here the ground lay low, the soil was soft and the waters dark and sluggish. But his instincts as a woodsman were fortified by much youthful training, and he felt that he could find the way.