He had concluded that "the longest way around was the shortest way
through," and he directed his steps toward the river. He had formed a
clear plan at last, and he believed that it would succeed. Twisting and
turning, always keeping in the shadows, he made good progress, descended
the bluff, and at last stood behind the ruins of an old warehouse near
the stream.

Southern batteries were not far away from him and he heard the men
talking. Then, strengthening his resolution, he came from behind the
ruins, flung himself almost flat on the ground, and crawled toward the
river, pushing in front of him a board, which some Northern gun had shot
from the warehouse.

He knew that his task was difficult and dangerous, though in the last
resort he could rush to the water and spring in. But he was almost at
the edge before any sentinel saw the black shadow passing over the ground.

A hail came, and Dick flattened himself against the ground and lay
perfectly still. Evidently the sentinel was satisfied that his fancy had
been making merry with him, as he did not look further at the shadow,
and Dick, after waiting two or three minutes, resumed his slow creeping.

He reached the edge, shoved the board into it, and dropped gently into
the water beside it, submerged to the head. Then, pushing his support
before him, he struck out for the middle of the stream.




CHAPTER XI