I was not long in finding such a bend.  And now my caution became very great, and my advance very slow.  The bank sloped, but was almost completely hidden in the darkness.  I could not see the edge of the water.

Lying flat, I thrust the butt of my gun ahead of me, and moved it up and down and right and left, trying the inequalities of the ground.  To make no sound required the very greatest care; a slip of an inch might have caused a loud splash.

Slowly I gained ground until I reached the water, and stood in it to my knees.  I listened—­not a sound.  I slowly moved forward, raising my foot not an inch from the muddy bottom, straining eye and ear to note the slightest sign of danger.  The water deepened to my middle.

I crawled up the further bank.  Again I lent ear.  Nothing.  I crawled forward for fifty yards or more, hoping, rather than believing, that I was keeping halfway between the sides of the bend.

I rested a while, for such work is very hard.  Before a minute had passed I heard a noise—­and another:  one at my right, the other at my left.  The sounds were repeated.  I knew what they meant—­the vedette on either side of me was being relieved.  My course had been right—­I was midway between two sentinels.

How to get through the picket-line ahead of me?  I reasoned that the pickets were not in the swamp, but on the edge of the hills.  Lying there between the two vedettes I imagined a plan.  I knew that a picket-line is relieved early in the day when troops are in position, as the armies were now.  If I could see the relief coming, I would show myself just at the time it arrived, hoping that each party would take me to belong to the other.

But suppose I should not see the relieving company, or suppose any one of a thousand things should at the last moment make my plan impracticable, what then?

I saw that I must have some other plan to fall back on; I would make some other plan as I crawled forward.

At what moment should I strike the line of Confederate pickets?  That the country outside was in their cavalry lines I well knew, and I hoped that for this reason their infantry would be less watchful; but this thought did not make me any the less prudent and slow in my advance.  I had easily succeeded in passing the vedettes; to avoid the vedette reliefs might not be easy.

When I reached the edge of the swamp, daylight was just beginning to show.  Could I hope to remain long between vedettes and pickets?  Impossible.  But impossible is a strong word, I thought.  Why not climb?  Trees were all around me; I might easily hide in the thick boughs of a cedar near by.  But that would do me no good; at least, it could do no good unless in case of sudden necessity.  I must get through the picket-line; outside I could do nothing.  Once in rear of the Confederate pickets, I should have little or no trouble in remaining for days in the camps and in the main lines; getting through was the difficulty.  Daylight was increasing.