It was a rapid and condensed statement, but it was very satisfying to Dick who now rode on for a long time in silence.  The road was as bad as a road could be.  Snow and ice were mixed with the deep mud which pulled hard at the hoofs of their horses.  The country was rough, sterile, and inhabited but thinly.  They rode many miles without meeting a single human being.  About the third hour they saw a man and a boy on a hillside several hundred yards away, but when Captain Markham and a chosen few galloped towards them they disappeared so deftly among the woods that not a trace of them could be found.

“People in this region are certainly bashful,” said Captain Markham with a vexed laugh.  “We meant them no harm, but they wouldn’t stay to see us.”

“But they don’t know that,” said Dick with the familiarity of kinship, even though distant.  “I fancy that the people hereabouts wish both Northerners and Southerners would go away.”

Two miles further on they came to a large, double cabin standing back a little distance from the road.  Smoke was rising from the chimney, and Captain Markham felt sure that they could obtain information from its inmates.  Dick, at his direction, beat on the door with the butt of a small riding whip.  There was no response.  He beat again rapidly and heavily, and no answer coming he pushed in the door.

A fire was burning on the hearth, but the house was abandoned.  Nor had the owners been gone long.  Besides the fire to prove it, clothing was hanging on hooks in the wall, and there was food in the cupboard.  Captain Markham sighed.

“Again they’re afraid of us,” he said.  “I’ve no doubt the signal has been passed ahead of us, and that we’ll not get within speaking distance of a single native.  Curious, too, because this region in the main is for the North.”

“Perhaps somebody has been robbing and plundering in our name,” said Dick.  “Skelly and his raiders have been through these parts.”

“That’s so,” said Markham, thoughtfully.  “I’m afraid those guerillas who claim to be our allies are going to do us a great deal of harm.  Well, we’ll turn back into the road, if you can call this stream of icy mud a road, and go on.”

Another mile and they caught the gleam of water among the wintry boughs.  Dick knew that it was the Cumberland which was now a Southern artery, bringing stores and arms for the army of Crittenden and Zollicoffer.  Even here, hundreds of miles from its mouth, it was a stream of great depth, easily navigable, and far down its current they saw faintly the smoke of two steamers.

“They bear supplies for the Southern army,” said Captain Markham.  “We can cut off the passage of boats on this river and for that reason, so General Thomas concludes, the Southern army is going to attack us.  What do you think of his reasoning, sergeant?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, for passin’ an opinion upon my general,” replied Sergeant Whitley, “but I think his reasons are good.  Here it is the dead of winter, with more mud in the roads than I ever saw before anywhere, but there’s bound to be a battle right away.  Men will fight, sir, to keep from losin’ their grub.”