of the whole enterprise.  Every family in this section could reasonably be supposed to have furnished men to the Confederate army near by and, if we should be seen by any person whomsoever, there was great probability that our presence would be at once divulged to the nearest rebels.  The result of our consultation was our turning back.  We rode down toward Old Church until we came to a forest stretching north of the road, which we now left, and made through the woods a circuit of the Linney house, and reached the Hanover road again in the low grounds of Totopotomoy Creek.  We had seen no one.  The creek bottom was covered with forest and dense undergrowth.  We crossed the creek some distance below the road, and kept in the woods for a mile without having to venture into the open.

It was about nine o’clock; we had made something like three miles since we had left Old Church.

In order to get beyond the next crossroad, it was evident that we must run some risk of being seen from four directions at once, or else we must flank the crossing.

By diverging to the right, we found woods to conceal us all the way until we were in sight of the crossroad.  I dismounted, and bidding Jones remain, crept forward until I could see both ways, up and down, on the road.  There were houses at my left—­some two hundred yards off, and but indistinctly seen through the trees—­on both sides of the road, but no person was visible.  Just at my right the road sank between two elevations.  I went to the hollow and found that from this position the houses could not be seen.  I went back to Jones, and together we led our horses across the road through the hollow.  We mounted and rode rapidly away through the woods, and reached the Hanover road at a point two miles or more beyond the Linney house.

We now felt that if there was any post of rebels in these parts it would be found behind Crump’s Creek, which was perhaps half a mile at our left, running north into the Pamunkey.  We turned to the left and made for Crump’s Creek.  We found an easy crossing, and we soon reached the Hanover river road, within four miles, I thought, of Hanover Court-House.

And now our danger was really to become immediate, and our fear oppressive.  We were in sight of the main road running from Hanover Court-House down the Pamunkey—­a road that was no doubt covered by the enemy’s plans, and on which bodies of his cavalry frequently operated.  If the force at Hanover Court-House, or the Junction, were seeking to get to the rear of McClellan’s right wing, this would be the road by which it would march; this road then, beyond all question, was constantly watched, and there was strong probability that rebels were kept posted in good positions upon it.  But for the fact that I might find it necessary to reach the Junction, I should now have gone forward afoot.

I decided to use still greater circumspection in going farther forward, and to get near the enemy’s post, if there should prove to be one, at the Court-House, only after nightfall.  Thus we had from ten o’clock until dark—­nine hours or more—­in which to make our gradual approach.