Finding a secluded place, he stretched himself upon the ground, and went to sleep.
Though he slept till the sun had passed the meridian, the day was a very long one.
When it was fairly dark, he resolved to attempt the passage of the Gap, for he was so tired of inaction that peril and hardship seemed preferable to doing nothing.

Returning to the road, he pursued his way with due diligence through the narrowing defile of the mountains, till he suddenly came upon a sentinel, who challenged him.

Before he started from his hiding place, Tom had carefully loaded the revolver which he had taken from the rebel soldier; and, as he walked along, he carried the weapon in his hand, ready for any emergency that might require its use.
The guard questioned him, and Tom replied that he had fought in the battle down below, and had a furlough to go home and see his father, who was very sick.
"Where's your furlough ?" demanded the soldier.
"In my pocket." "Let me see it." "Here it is," replied Tom, producing an old letter which he happened to have in his pocket.
The sentinel took the paper, unfolded it, and turned it over two or three times.

It was too dark for him to read it if he had been able to do so, for all the rebel soldiers are not gifted in this way.
"I reckon this won't do," he added, after patiently considering the matter.

"Just you tote this paper up to the corporal thar, and if he says it's all right, you kin go on." "But I can't stop to do all that.