night. The troopers would have willingly pushed on through the darkness,
but the horses were so near exhaustion that another hour or two would
have broken them down permanently. Moreover, Colonel Winchester did not
feel much apprehension of an attack now. Forrest had certainly turned
in another direction, and they were too close to the Union lines to be
attacked by any other foe.

The house on this plantation was not by any means so large and fine as
Bellevue, but, like the other, it had broad piazzas all about it, and
Dick, in view of his strenuous experience, was allowed to take his
saddle as a pillow and his blankets and go to sleep soon after dark in a
comfortable place against the wall.

Never was slumber quicker or sweeter. There was not an unhealthy tissue
in his body, and most of his nerves had disappeared in a life amid
battles, scoutings, and marchings. He slept heavily all through the
night, inhaling new strength and vitality with every breath of the crisp,
fresh air. There was no interruption this time, and early in the morning
the regiment was up and away.

They descended now into lower grounds near the Mississippi. All around
them was a vast and luxuriant vegetation, cut by sluggish streams and
bayous. But the same desolation reigned everywhere. The people had fled
before the advance of the armies. Late in the afternoon they saw pickets
in blue, then the Mississippi, and a little later they rode into a Union
camp.

"Dick," said Colonel Winchester, "I shall want you to go with the senior
officers and myself to report to General Grant on the other side of the
Mississippi. You rode on that mission to Grierson and he may want to ask