between green banks, with few cultivated fields in sight. We had turned
toward the north, and the straggling town lay directly in front two
miles away, so hidden behind trees the houses were scarcely
distinguishable; a quarter of a mile below was the bridge. I stood up,
thrusting my head beyond the carriage cover, so as to see better. To the
west the woods concealed everything. It was somewhere in that direction
Beauregard's troops were encamped, yet, even if they were already
advancing to unite with Johnston, they would hardly cross the country so
far to the north. Knowing the situation as I did I felt little fear of
any encounter with Confederates. Our cavalry were patrolling all the
roads across the river, and, as late as the previous day, were guarding
the Jonesboro bridge. I could see no signs of any such guard now,
however, yet the trees were thick and obscured the view, and that heavy
dust cloud to the right was probably caused by the passing of a troop of
horse. Convinced that this would prove to be either a cavalry vidette,
or a Federal foraging party, it made me more anxious to get quickly
down into the town, hopeful they might have a spare horse with them, and
I pointed out the dust spirals to my companion.

"If you have friends in Jonesboro," I said, "I've also got some coming."

"Who are they?" her eyes on the distant dust. "Yankees?"

"Certainly; there are none of your people on that side of the river.
Beauregard is out yonder in those hills. Let's drive on, the town
looks quiet."

She leaned forward, holding to the edge of the carriage cover to keep
her balance, her glance turning toward the southwest.