A dense wood covers the bridge and the causeway; and the beautiful evergreen that gives its name to the stream, added much to the darkness of the night; so much that the road looked almost like the entrance of a cavern, the branches overarching above, and shading the dark passage-way below. Into this woodland tunnel the first platoon slowly rode. We watched them as they disappeared, and then listened to the sound of their horses rumbling and clattering on the bridge. In a minute more they had crossed; and then, about as long as it would reasonably take to give an alarm, there came, or seemed to come, from the other side, perhaps half a mile distant, the long roll of a drum. I was at the head of the column, and heard it distinctly; and the men behind me instantly whispered, "There's a drum." Our immediate inference was that the enemy were on the other side, and, hearing our horses trampling on the bridge, were beating to arms. Thinking it would not do to crowd more troops on the narrow causeway until the first platoon had gained the opposite bank, I ordered them to follow if I fired my pistol, and rode forward to join the first. The galloping of my horse roused the bull-frogs, and they bellowed so loudly that I thought I might hereafter believe the stories often told of their frightening armies into a retreat. But above them came, from different points, five or six hideous half-human yells, as though sentinels were giving signals of our approach. They were, however, too near and too irregular for that, and evidently came from the trees; so that I quickly concluded that some night birds were the callers, and afterward ascertained them to be a species of Southern owl. In less time than I am writing this I had crossed, and found the platoon quietly examining the tobacco-barn. I asked about the drum. They had not heard it, and stoutly insisted there could have been none. I waited until some men who had been sent on returned, and reported the road was empty and quiet for a mile ahead; and then, directing the lieutenant to place videttes in advance, and if attacked to draw up his horses in the rear of the barn and let his men fire through the logs until the main body should arrive, I recrossed the bridge. The men were still mounted, and waiting for the signal to advance. I informed them of what the first platoon had said, and they as stoutly insisted that there _was_ a drum, because they _had_ heard it. Whether it was indeed some small party of rebels beating an alarm, or the footfalls of our own horses rolling from the bridge, and echoed back from some distant hill, I leave you to determine.