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. And I never paused to explain--all I
wanted to do was to arrive at those cross-roads in advance of Billie.

However I failed in this ambition, but merely because the road I was
following did not keep on directly west, but drifted off toward the
river. I only became aware of this change in direction when we
intersected a cross-road, and then I ran squarely up against a
picket-post, the men having a fire burning to keep them warm. The light
of the flames revealed everything within a radius of a hundred feet, and
I could distinguish a dozen infantrymen sitting and lying about, while a
couple of others marched back and forth across the road. I wanted to get
farther south, but had only wriggled through the bushes a few yards in
that direction before sinking to my knees in mud and water, and being
compelled to crawl back. There was nothing left except to circle the
fire in the opposite direction, and come out on the road below. I must
have used up a good quarter of an hour getting through. Twice I made
missteps, and some racket, but there was no challenge. I emerged at the
opening of a small ravine, where I could lie down flat behind a low
rock, and look back up the road, which ran down hill. I felt reasonably
certain Billie would have to come this way if he intended to cross the
river at Carter's Ford, and I knew of no other place he could cross this
side the big bridge. The aide would be riding with him, of course, and
that would make me certain of my man when he came, although how I was