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Fording Creeks in the Darkness.-Prospect of a Dreary Night.-Sleep-
ing among the Husks.-Turning Back in Discouragement.-An

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THE FIELD, THE DUNGEON, AND THE ESCAPE.

I.

THE SECRET SERVICE.

CHAPTER I.

I will go on the slightest errand now to the antipodes that you can desire to send me on-MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

EARLY in 1861, I felt a strong desire to look at the Secession movement for myself; to learn, by personal observation, whether it sprang from the people or not; what the Revolutionists wanted, what they hoped, and what they feared.

But the southern climate, never propitious to the longevity of Abolitionists, was now unfavorable to the health of every northerner, no matter how strong his political constitution. I felt the danger of being recognized; for several years of roving journalism, and a good deal of political speaking on the frontier, had made my face familiar to persons whom I did not remember at all, and given me that large and motley acquaintance which every half-public life necessitates.

Moreover, I had passed through the Kansas struggle; and many former shining lights of Border Ruffianism were now, with perfect fitness, lurid torches in the early bonfires of Secession. I did not care to meet their eyes, for I could not remember a single man of them all who

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