It was near four o'clock, P. M., when we halted. We kept our eyes at intervals on the house and its immediate surroundings, but saw no person during the evening. One dog, a calf, and a few chickens, were the only living objects visible. The doors of the house were closed, and we concluded Lewis and his family had gone from home; but as smoke was issuing from the chimney, we hoped they would return by dark. We feared the man we had met leading the horse was Lewis with his family, going with a friend to make a visit. If so, we should be delayed, we thought, in our journey, and be compelled to push on without seeing him. We decided to wait until dark in our hiding-place, and see if Lewis would return. Just after sunset the man we had met on the mountain, leading the horse, went along the path to Lewis's premises. He was leading a horse, and was accompanied by two other men, each leading horses. They first put their horses in the stable and fed them. They then chopped some wood at the wood-pile and carried it to the house. Darkness came on, and we saw sparks flying from the chimney top. Feelings of joyous gratitude heaved our bosoms as we felt certain we should soon meet Lewis and enjoy the company and consolations of a native thorough-bred Union man. We were destined to meet with disappointment, however, and to experience difficulties from which a mere allusion to Davis and Tige would not relieve us. In less than an hour after dark we left our position in the thicket and went to the house. We knocked three times before we were told to come in. With a show of reluctance on the part of the three men, we were furnished seats near the fire. Wood, addressing the largest of the men, asked, "Your name is Lewis, I suppose?" "No, but Lewis is a brother-in-law of mine," was the answer. "Well, this is Lewis's house, is it?" Wood asked. "We were told it was." "Where is Lewis?" inquired Sutherland. "I don't know," said the man, "he hasn't been at home for several days." "What's your name?" continued Sutherland. "My name is Hepler." "Are you akin to David Hepler?" Sutherland asked. "Yes, David Hepler is my father," replied the man, at the same time turning very pale. Judging Hepler was fearful some great calamity had befallen his father through the agency of "bogus Yankees," I said, "You think we are Rebels," and Smith immediately added, "We have not harmed a hair of your father's head." We assured Hepler we were real Union soldiers, honestly endeavoring to make our way from prison to our lines. "I don't know so well about that," said Hepler, "but as for myself, I belong to the Confederate army."