He then showed me General Van Dorn's tent. I had supposed that if I found much of a force it would be that of General Van Dorn. I proceeded to the tent that had been pointed out. In front of it was the usual head-quarters guard. Saluting him, I inquired if General Van Dorn was in, and was answered in the affirmative. The moment I entered, I saw two Generals. One I instantly recognized as the Confederate General Wheeler; I had known him in Memphis before the war. Without speaking to him, I turned to the other and addressed him; I said, "General, I wish to get a pass, if you please, to go outside of the lines." "Who are you?" the General inquired. "My name is Ruggles." "General Van Dorn," said General Wheeler, "don't you know him? He is a brother of General Ruggles, and belongs to the 2d Arkansas Cavalry." "Ah! Indeed!" "Yes, and I want to go out to the Yankee lines and see what they are doing out there." "I wish you would, Ruggles," said Van Dorn, "and see if the Yankees have obstructed the Grand Junction and Salem road with timber. That's the road that I want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning." General Van Dorn instructed his Adjutant to write me a pass, which I received, and then went out and mounted my mule. "_That's the road I want to take a part of my forces in on in the morning!_" was something that needed my immediate attention. I rode leisurely through the camp. Every thing was bustle and activity preparatory to a move, and confirmed what I had heard at head-quarters. As near as I could judge, the camp contained 9,000 or 10,000 men. Having satisfied myself of the probable force of the enemy, I started back on the road I came in on. I stopped at the pickets and showed my pass, and then went on. After I had crossed Wolf River, I made a detour across the country to the right, in order to get on to the Grand Junction and Salem road, as General Van Dorn had directed me, so that if by any mishap I should be captured and sent to head-quarters, I could show that I was captured right where I had been sent. About five miles from the White Church, I dismounted at a large, beautiful spring of water, to drink and rest myself. While there, a cavalryman rode up and halted for the same purpose; I immediately recognized him as having been one of the squad I had fallen in with and accompanied so far in my former trip. He rode a Texan pony, with a peculiarly constructed saddle, that I could not mistake as having seen before. "Where have you been?" I inquired, as he stopped. "I've been up to the Yankee lines." "You must be a scout, then." "Yes, I am a spy; where do you belong?" "I _belong to the Yankees_!" I replied, placing my hand on my revolver, as if to draw it. My movements agitated him. Raising his hands in a supplicating attitude, as if he thought I meant to kill him, he said, "D--don't shoot! hold--hold on! don't lets you and I quarrel; let us help each other, since we are both in the same business."