The path still led in the direction they wished and they rode on silently
for hours. Once they saw a farmhouse set back in the woods, and they
were in fear lest dogs come out and bark alarm, but there was no sound
and they soon left it far behind.

They passed many streams, some of which were up to their saddle girths,
and then they entered a road which was often so deep in mud that they
were compelled to turn into the woods on the side. But no human being
had interfered with their journey, and their hopes rose to the zenith.

They came, finally, into an open region of cotton fields, and the
sergeant now began to watch closely for the great trail they hoped to
find. A force as large as Grierson's would not attempt a passage through
the woods, but would seek some broad road and Sergeant Whitley expected
to find it long before morning.

It was now an hour after midnight and they reckoned that they had come
about the right distance. There was a good moon and plenty of stars and
the sergeant gave himself only a half-hour to find the trail.

"There's bound to be a wide road somewhere among these fields, the kind
we call a county road."

"It's over there beyond that rail fence," said Dick. They urged their
horses into a trot, and soon found that Dick was right. A road of red
clay soft from the rains stretched before them.

"A man doesn't have to look twice here for a trail. See," said the
sergeant.