Then I skirted the bar of flame, and ran on down the road, a bit recklessly, fearing the horseman might get too far ahead.
It was intensely dark, one of those dense nights when the blackness appears to press down upon one, and there were noises on either side to make me aware that I was in the midst of a great encampment.

Fires shone dimly through the trees, and I could hear voices and hammering.

I supposed the road I was travelling ran directly through the main camp, with troops on either side, and, for that reason, was not patrolled by pickets.

Anyhow I passed without challenge, although I met a few fellows slinking along about as I was--soldiers out of bounds most likely, as afraid of me as I was of them.

At least whenever I bumped into one, he got out of the way fast enough.