As the lieutenant and I rode through the
village, some soldiers warned us that the adventure would be
dangerous, but that we could probably get to the desired place unhurt
if we avoided the French fire by forcing our horses to a run in
crossing some open streets where we would be exposed. On getting to
the first street my guide galloped ahead to show the way, and as the
French were not on the lookout for anything of the kind at these
dangerous points, only a few stray shots were drawn by the
lieutenant, but when I followed, they were fully up to what was going
on, and let fly a volley every time they saw me in the open.
Fortunately, however, in their excitement they overshot, but when I
drew rein alongside of my guide under protection of the bluff where
the German picket was posted, my hair was all on end, and I was about
as badly scared as ever I had been in my life. As soon as I could
recover myself I thought of Havelock and Forsyth, with the hope that
they would not follow; nor did they, for having witnessed my
experience, they wisely concluded that, after all, they did not care
so much to see the French rifle-pits.
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