It was possible that a Confederate troop scouting in that direction might save him, but it was far from a certainty, and he could not take it into his calculations.

He was now riding between two cornfields in which all the corn had been cut, but he saw forest on the right, about a half mile ahead.
He believed that his salvation lay in that forest.

He hoped that it stretched far toward the right.

He had never seen a finer forest, a more magnificent forest, one that looked more sheltering, and the nearer he came to it the better it looked.
He did not glance back, but he felt sure that the blue horsemen must still be gaining.

Then came that mellow, hunting note of the trumpet, much nearer than before.