It gave him now great joy to leave the army and ride away through the deep woods. He was tired of battle and the sight of wounds and death. The noises of the camp were painful to his ear, and in the forest he found peace.
He was absolutely alone in his world, and glad of it. The woods were in all the depth and richness of a Southern spring. Vast masses of green foliage billowed away to right and left. Great festoons of moss hung from the oaks, and trailing vines wrapped many of the trees almost to their tops. Wild flowers, pink, yellow and blue, unknown by name to Dick, bloomed in the open spaces.
The air of early morning was crisp with the breath of life. He had come upon a low ridge of hard ground, away from the vast current and low, sodden shores of the Mississippi. Here was a clean atmosphere, and the forest, the forest everywhere. A mockingbird, perched on a bough almost over his head, began to pour forth his liquid song, and from another far away came the same song like an echo. Dick looked up but he could not see the bird among the branches. Nevertheless he waved his hand toward the place from which the melody came and gave a little trill in reply. Then he said aloud:
“It’s a happy omen that you give me. I march away to the sound of innocent music.”
Then he increased his speed a little and rode without stopping until he came to the main road to Jackson. There he examined his map upon which were marked many rivers, creeks, lagoons and bayous, with extensive shaded areas meaning forests. In the southeastern corner of the map was Jackson, close to which he meant to go.
He rode on at a fair pace, keeping an extremely careful watch ahead and on either side of the road. He meant to turn aside soon into the woods, but for the present he thought himself safe in the road-it was not likely that Southern raiders would come so near to the Union camp.
His feeling of peace deepened. He was so far away now that no warlike sound could reach him. Instead the song of the mockingbird pursued him. Dick, full of youth and life, began to whistle the tune with the songster, and his horse perhaps soothed too by the rhythm broke into the gentle pace which is so easy for the rider.
It was early dawn, and the west was not yet wholly light. The east was full of gold, but the silver lingered on the opposite horizon, and the hot sun of Mississippi did not yet shed its rays over the earth. Instead, a cool breeze blew on Dick’s face, and the quick blood was still leaping in his veins. The road dipped down and he came to a brook, which was clear despite its proximity to the mighty yellow trench of the Mississippi.
He let his horse drink freely, and, while he drank, he surveyed the country as well as he could. On his left he saw through a fringe of woods a field of young corn and showing dimly beyond it a small house. Unbroken forest stretched away on his right, but in field as well as forest there was no sign of a human being.
He studied his map again, noting the great number of water courses, which in the spring season were likely to be at the flood, and, for the first time, he realized the extreme difficulty of his mission. Mississippi was in the very heart of the Confederacy. He could not expect any sympathetic farmers to help him or show him the way. More likely as he advanced toward Jackson he would find the country swarming with the friends of the Confederacy, and to pass through them would demand the last resource of skill and courage. Perhaps it would have been wiser had he put on citizens clothes and taken his chances as a spy! He did not know that Colonel Winchester would have ordered the disguise had the one who rode on this most perilous mission been any other than he.