Who Goes There?. B. K. Benson
ain't gone wrong--but we's mos' up on dem pickets ag'in," he repeated.
"Where are we?"
"We's gittin' mos' to Worrick; ef we gits up to de place, den w'at you gwine to do?"
"I want to stay there till daylight, so that I can see them and know how many they are."
"Den w'at you gwine to do?"
"Then I want to follow their line as near as I can, going toward Yorktown."
"Den all I got to say is dat hit's mighty cole to be a-layin' out in de woods widout no fiah en' widout no kiver en' widout noth'n' to eat."
"That's true, Nick; do you know of any place where we could get an hour or two of sleep without freezing?"
"Dat's des' w'at I was a-gwine to say; fo' God it was; ef dat's w'at you gwine to do; come on."
He led the way again, going to the left. We passed through woods, then a field, and came to a farmhouse,
"Hold on. Nick," said I; "it won't do to go up to that house."
"Dey ain't nobody dah," said Nick; "all done runned off to Richmon' er summers."
The fences were gone, and a general air of desolation marked the place.
Nick went into an outhouse--a stable with a loft--- and climbed up into the loft. I climbed up after him. There was a little loose hay in the loft; we speedily stretched ourselves. I made Nick promise to be awake before sunrise, for I feared the place would be visited by the rebels.
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