Instead the song of the mockingbird pursued him.

Dick, full of youth and life, began to whistle the tune with the songster, and his horse perhaps soothed too by the rhythm broke into the gentle pace which is so easy for the rider.
It was early dawn, and the west was not yet wholly light.

The east was full of gold, but the silver lingered on the opposite horizon, and the hot sun of Mississippi did not yet shed its rays over the earth.
Instead, a cool breeze blew on Dick's face, and the quick blood was still leaping in his veins.

The road dipped down and he came to a brook, which was clear despite its proximity to the mighty yellow trench of the Mississippi.
He let his horse drink freely, and, while he drank, he surveyed the country as well as he could.

On his left he saw through a fringe of woods a field of young corn and showing dimly beyond it a small house.
Unbroken forest stretched away on his right, but in field as well as forest there was no sign of a human being.
He studied his map again, noting the great number of water courses, which in the spring season were likely to be at the flood, and, for the first time, he realized the extreme difficulty of his mission.
Mississippi was in the very heart of the Confederacy.