The "mule cavalry" above alluded to was organized to facilitate scouting, and watch more closely the movements of the enemy, and to check the depredations of guerrillas that infested the country. It was composed of men from the infantry, selected for their daring and gallantry. On account of the thorough knowledge that I had obtained of the country, I was generally sent out with them, to guide them in their scouts. Not a great while after the foregoing adventure, as the "mule cavalry" was going out on the road leading south from Bolivar, I accompanied them on my own responsibility. After we had got outside of the lines a short distance, I left the mule cavalry and took across the fields to the left, to Mr. Bill's plantation. I had got into a cotton-field on his plantation, and was riding leisurely along, when one of the niggers, who was picking cotton a short distance to my right, called out: "Hallo, dar, Mr. Bunker! you come dis way." I obeyed, and rode out to see what the nigger wanted. "Mr. Bunker, hab we got forces down dar in de bottom?" "No, we haven't got any forces there." "Wal, dar's forces down in dar; for de horn souns down in dar reg'lar ebery mornin', ebery noon, an' ebery night, an' dar mus' be forces down dar." "It must be rebel forces, then; probably rebel cavalry." "Oh, Lord! Mr. Bunker, don't talk dat ar way, for dey will be up here for sure some night, an' dey will kill all de niggers Massa Bill hab got!" "Well, I must go and see who is down there. Can you tell me of any path that leads down there?" "Thar's heaps o' hog-paths dat leads down in dat ar way as yer go through de gate in de fur en' de field," said the nigger, pointing to the fence. I rode on through the field in the direction pointed out, and following one of the hog-paths, I descended a hill, and was just rising to the top of another, when I discovered, on a ridge in advance of me, fourteen mounted rebels. They evidently had not seen me. I immediately backed my mule down the hill so far as to be out of sight, and then turned to the left and went down into a hollow, and then up a narrow ridge, or hog's back, leading in the direction of Bolivar. When I had rode along about four hundred yards through the scattering timber, I saw a fellow dressed like a rebel soldier, about fifty yards ahead, approaching me, with a double-barreled shotgun, which he carried, lying across the back of his neck, resting on both shoulders, with both his arms up over the gun. As he came along he was whistling a very lively tune, apparently perfectly unconcerned at my approach.