and crouched down behind a large oak. The shooting incident of a few
days before made the two pickets feel somewhat tender at thus being
alone in the forest, when at any moment an enemy might creep upon
them sufficiently near as to shoot them in the dark. Everything was
as quiet as the grave. The stars, peeping faintly out from behind the
clouds, midnight came, and each began to nod, when a twig breaks some
distance in front, then another, then the rustling of dry leaves.
Their hearts leap to their throats and beat like sledge hammers. One
whispers to the other, "Whist, some one is coming." They strain their
ears to better catch the sound. Surely enough they hear the leaves
rustling as if some one is approaching. "Click," "click," the two
hammers of their trusty rifles spring back, fingers upon the triggers,
while nearer the invisible comes. "Halt," rang out in the midnight
air; "halt," once more, but still the steady tread keeps approaching.
When the third "halt" was given it was accompanied by the crack of
their rifles. A deafening report and frightful squeal, as an old
female porker went charging through the underbrush like mad. The crack
of the rifles alarmed the sleeping companions in reserve, who rushed
to arms and awaited the attack. But after much good humored badgering
of the two frightened sentinels, "peace reigned once more at Warsaw"
till the break of day. The company returned next morning to camp, but
the two sentinels who had fired on the old innocent porker were glad
enough to seek the quietude of their quarters to escape the jests of
their comrades.

A simple system of breastworks was thrown up just beyond our camp at
Fairfax on a little eminence to the right of the road. This we thought
sufficient to defeat quite an army, or at least keep them at bay.
General Bonham had his headquarters at Fairfax Court House, but rode
out daily to examine the work done on the entrenchments, or inspect