"Certainly; that is north, and this road runs west, but I have no
recollection of it. What puzzled me was our failure to cross the river."

"Oh," with a quick glance toward me. "That is easily explained; we
turned the corner of the bluff instead. This is the old road to
Jonesboro, and has been used very little since the new road was opened.
I chose it because I thought I would be less likely to meet with any
chance travellers."

I began to comprehend more clearly where we were. The extreme right of
the position held by our army would be, at least, ten miles east, and
the Confederate left scarcely nearer. Beauregard was off in here
somewhere,--at Bird's Ferry according to our camp reports the evening
previous. This knowledge prompted me to ask,

"Which way is the river?"

"To the right about three miles."

"And Bird's Ferry?"

I could not be certain she smiled, yet I thought so.

"Yonder," pointing. "The river curves to the south, and this road comes
down to it at Jonesboro; there is a bridge there. The ferry is fifteen
miles farther up."

The apparent innocence of her answer completely disarmed me. Indeed
these facts were exactly as I remembered them now that I had our present
position in mind. The peculiar winding course of the river would leave