Toward the latter part of August rumor became prevalent that an attack was intended against the forces garrisoning Bolivar, which rendered it necessary to watch closely. On the night of August 27th, General Ross told me that he had heard that a force of the enemy had again got as far north as Grand Junction, and that he wanted I should ride down that night and find the enemy's pickets if they were north of the Junction; if not, to go on to the Junction and then return. I started at 9 o'clock. The weather was warm, but the night was extremely dark, which rendered the undertaking unpleasant and hazardous. It was impossible to distinguish objects at a distance, and it would require the utmost precaution to prevent running into the pickets before I was aware of their presence. After having arrived within three miles of Grand Junction, the ride became more dangerous than before. Knowing that my safety required increased vigilance, I slackened my pace to a very slow walk, peering forward into the dark distance with all the powers of my vision, hoping if there was any pickets I might be able to see them in time to escape. In that manner I felt my way along in suspense, until within three-quarters of a mile of Grand Junction. Here a single sentry stepped out in the midnight darkness, not more than six feet ahead of my mule, and challenged: "Halt! who comes there?" I had got too close to venture an escape by running, and I resolved to make the best use of my position that the circumstances would permit, and take my chance for the result. "A friend, with the countersign," I replied, at the same time drawing my revolver and hanging it down by my side. "Advance one, with the countersign!" said the sentry. "There a'n't but one here," said I; "my mule is so ugly that I don't like to dismount, and so skittish that I don't know as I can advance;" and at the same time I pretended to urge my mule forward to the sentry, who stood with his piece at "arms port." "Bring your piece to an 'order,'" said I, "if you please, so that I can get my mule up without dismounting." He brought his piece to an order, and as the mule moved forward, he stepped one foot forward and leaned toward me to receive the countersign. I leaned forward, and, thrusting my revolver to his breast, _gave him my countersign_! The heavy _thug_, as he dropped, told _me_ that the "_countersign was correct_!"