the proprietor to let him make the change in the back room of the store. He
made a bundle of the clothes he had discarded, left them at the store
saying that he would call for them in a few days, then went out on the one
street of the village. It was deserted; the good citizens of Shelbyville
were at dinner, and a few soldiers who had come to the village to make
purchases were hurrying back to camp to be there when mess call sounded. In
the excitement of his departure Tom had forgotten that he must eat, but,
with a half-hour to spare before starting for the meeting place, he
returned to the store and stuffed his pockets with food. Then, with a hunk
of cold meat in one hand and a slice of bread in the other, he walked down
the village road, eating his supper as he went. Near the edge of the
village he saw two men ahead of him, and he wondered if they too were
members of the expedition. They stopped, leaning against a fence, and eyed
him as he went by.

Dusk came, and then darkness. The sky was overcast, but occasionally the
moonlight flashed through a break in the clouds, showing the road before
him. Walking was difficult, for the half-dried mud was slippery, and the
broad wheels of wagons had made deep ruts. Several times he stumbled, and
once he wrenched his ankle. He made his way more carefully after that,
sometimes feeling out the ground with the toes of his boots before he
placed his weight forward. The thought of being disabled before he had
really started on the adventure, of going back to camp to commiserate with
Bert over sprained ankles, filled him with dread. The deepest ruts turned
away from the main road to a farm house: a dog barked, and Tom hurried
forward. Several hundred yards further along the road, he thought he saw a
man who moved behind a tree and hid. He did not stop to investigate.

Tom paused for a moment at the fork of the road; then went forward
breathlessly. Between the bushes which lined the edge of the fork stood