From the text:
"Last night was worse than any coon hunt. They had stumbled around in the dark, running in two trees and tripping over all old cotton rows, trying to keep their alignment, trying to catch the Strangers when it was all they could do to keep up with themselves. At last, around midnight, the regiment had gone in to a cold bivouac, sleeping on their arms, and way off in the night Bushrod had awakened to the sound of troops passing on the Nashville road."
The Black Flower: A Novel of the Civil War, pg. 4