An hour or two brings us to Conyersville. It is indeed hidden from us by some woods, but for half an hour every one has told us it is "uh byout uh haf uh mile uh syo;" so we feel sure it is not far off now. A contraband is seen coming down the road, and he stops and tells me there are soldiers in Conyersville--he doesn't know which kind; he says he "could see them a moving along the road, and was afeard to go in, for fear they might be seceshers." We have two squadrons out, but they were not expected here, and King's camp is only a dozen miles or so away. 'Tis an even chance whether they are our men or the enemy's. "Close up." "Form fours." "Draw sabre." In a minute we shall be in a fight, or--jogging along as quietly as before. We reach the top of a little hill, and on another road before us are moving the dust and figures of a body of cavalry--but through it are seen the blue jackets and sabres of our troops, and in another moment we recognize them as our own men. I hold a short conference with the captain, and then we ride into Conyersville. Conyersville is "not much of a place," the men say; "there is a tavern, and a store, and a blacksmith shop, and half a dozen houses; and the folks are all secesh." Yet weeks in the woods give one a craving for a city; so we stop at Conyersville a little while, all the while knowing there is nothing to see. We then turn to the left, and go some miles down the Paris road. We pass a road that runs back to Major Thornton's, partly because it is too early to go there, partly to the better mislead any one who might follow us. At last, as it grows dark, we come to a second road, which turns off at a sharp angle and goes to the major's; and this we take. It runs through thick woods--through a swamp--along the edge of a little millpond--over its rickety bridge, and close to its little mill. It is so dark, indeed, that we can hardly find the major's, and even ride a little way past the gate. At length we turn in, and the lieutenants ride on to wake the people up and inform them that we are coming. Being rather grander people than usual, they have not gone to bed. Now, walking into a man's house and taking possession of it is not an agreeable task. At home, it seemed so; but when you come face to face with the man, and more especially with the man's wife and children, the duty becomes unpleasant. It is done somewhat in this way: One of the lieutenants is standing by the garden gate, with a stout man beside him, and as I ride up, he says, "This is Major Thornton." "I am sorry to trouble you, Major Thornton, but I must stay here to-night, and shall have to take forage for sixty horses, and use your kitchen for my men to cook their supper. Where would you prefer my putting the horses?" The major says he has a large barn yard; that will suit him, if it will suit us. "Very well, sir, if you will send some of your men to show us and give out the forage, I will see that none is wasted."