and decided at once to occupy the thicket of pines until daylight.

The horses were tied, and Frank was left to guard them and keep them
from making a noise. Jones was directed to scout to the left as far as
the road, and to return and examine the ground to our right for a few
hundred yards; while he was engaged in this work I went forward nearly
half a mile, going first over open ground, then through a thick but
narrow skirt of woods, and coming out upon a hill from which I could
see through the rain a dim light which I supposed was caused by
camp-fires. A train of cars rumbled at my left, at a considerable
distance--perhaps more than a mile away.

Returning to the horses I found Jones, who reported that the road was
only some two hundred and fifty yards at our left, with woods on the
other side of it, and that on our right there was nothing but a wood
which extended to a swamp.

Frank and Jones were told to snatch what sleep they could; they rolled
themselves in their gum-blankets and lay under a thick pine bush. The
rain was pouring down.

At the first sign of day I woke the men. We silently made our way across
the road, leading the horses; I knew that the rain would soon, wash out
all our tracks. I now believed that Branch had moved southward some
miles, increasing his distance from the Pamunkey.

We took a hasty and disagreeable meal; then we divided our forces again.
Jones was near the railroad, I near the road, and Frank in the centre.
We moved northward, stopping every hundred yards or so, to be certain
that our communications were intact. Jones was so near the railroad that