To make sure that I could find Jones again, I stationed him in the creek swamp near the corner of the field.  We agreed upon a signal.

I crept forward through the swamp, converging toward the road.  I crossed the stream, and reached a point from which I could see the road; it ran up a hill; on the hill I could see a group of men.  Here, I was convinced, was the Confederate picket-line, if there was a line.

A thick-topped tree was growing some thirty yards from the edge of the road; from its boughs I could see mounted men facing east, nearer to me than the group above.  The sun had nearly set; it shone on sabres and carbines.  I was hoping there was no infantry picket-line.  I came down from the tree, returned rapidly to Jones, and got ready.  I told him to make himself comfortable for the night, and to wait for me no longer than two o’clock the next day.  The package containing the gray clothing I took with me.  I would not put it on until I should see that nothing else would do.

And now, feeling that it was for the last time, I again went forward.  I had decided to try to penetrate the picket-line if I should find it to be a very long line; if it proved to be a line that I could turn, I would go round it, and when on its flank I would act as opportunity should offer.  If the enemy’s force were small, I might see it all from the outside; but if it consisted of brigades and divisions, I would put on the disguise and throw away my own uniform.

Twilight had deepened; on the hills in front fires were beginning to show.  I reached the foot of the hill on which I had seen the rebel picket-post, and moved on slowly.  I was unarmed, carrying nothing but the gray clothes wrapped in the gum-blanket.

The hill was spotted with clumps of low bushes, but there were no trees.  At every step I paused and listened.  I thought I could hear voices far away.  Halfway up the hill I stopped; the voices were nearer—­or louder, possibly.

I now ceased advancing directly up the hill; instead, I moved off at a right angle toward the left, trying to keep a line parallel with the supposed picket-line, and listening hard.  A rabbit sprang up from almost under my feet.  I was glad that it did not run up the hill.  Voices continued to come to my ears, but from far away.  I supposed that the line was more than three hundred yards from me, and that vedettes were between us; but for the vedettes, I should have gone nearer.  I knew that I was in no great danger so long as the pickets would talk.  The voices made me sure that these pickets did not feel themselves in the presence of an enemy.  They evidently knew that they had bodies of cavalry on all the roads leading to their front.  Possibly they were prepared for attack by any body of men, but they were not prepared against observation by one man; they were trusting their cavalry for that.  So long, then, as I could hear the voices, I felt comparatively safe.  The pickets could not see me, for I was down the hill from them—­much below their sky line; if one of them should happen to be in their front for any purpose, he would think of me as I should think of him; he certainly would not suppose me an enemy; if he should be alarmed, I could get away.