The out-house
was near the river, and there was a good deal of brush growing along the
banks, and we succeeded in getting away unseen.
We went down to the margin, under the bank, and pursued our way along the
stream. Before it was dark we came in sight of the bridge, for which we
had been travelling ever since we left the other bridge, and were sorry to
see a sentry-box on it. We now halted for a council, and came to a
determination to wait until dark, and then advance. This we did, getting
under this bridge, as we had done with the other. We had no Indians,
however, to comfort and feed us.
I had known a good deal of this part of the country when a boy, from the
circumstance that Mr. Marchinton had a large farm, near a place called
Cornwallis, on the Bay, where I had even spent whole summers with the
family. This bridge I recollected well; and I remembered there was a ford
a little on one side of it, when the tide was out. The tides are
tremendous in this part of the world, and we did not dare to steal a boat
here, lest we should be caught in one of the bores, as they are called,
when the tide came in. It was now half ebb, and we resolved to wait, and
try the? ford.
It was quite dark when we left the bridge, and we had a delicate bit of
work before us. The naked flats were very wide, and we sallied out, with
the bridge as our guide. I was up to my middle in mud, at times, but the
water was not very deep.
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