A short distance ahead, in an open space between the road and the heavy timber beyond, I saw the light of camp fires and a few moving figures showing dark against the glow, while a dark mass at one side looked like horses and wagons. Telling Ned to drive over toward them and ask the way to General Dare's headquarters, as soon as we came abreast of the nearest groups, I scanned the surroundings, anxiously trying to determine what we had run into. I had not expected to meet any Confederates for two or three miles yet. But I knew it could not be any of our own troops, for we were too near the Rebels for that. As we approached closer I saw several officers in gray grouped around a fire and about a dozen men cooking supper at other fires a little apart and nearer us. It looked like a topographical camp or something of that sort. One of the men, who seemed to be doing a sort of picket duty, and broiling a bit of bacon on the end of his ramrod at the same time, started up as soon as he saw us driving up and demanded what we wanted. Ned told him we were trying to get to General Dare's headquarters and asked where they were, but before he had time to reply one of the officers advanced toward us, and Ned repeated his question to him. Before answering the officer asked us a number of questions as to where we were going and where we were from, eyeing us keenly all the time, then drew off a little ways to confer with one of the other officers. They were near enough for me to catch most of their conversation. "It's all right, I believe," said the one who had been talking to us, "or they would want to go the other way." "Only a feint most probably," replied the last comer and older of the two. "They may be spies and, as soon as they are out of sight, whirl off in another direction. There really does not seem to be anything very suspicious about them I must say," he added; "still it might be wise to detain them here until morning." "I think they are just what they say they are," returned the first officer. Just as I was wondering if it would not be best to make a run and leave them to decide at their leisure whether or not we were spies, one of the men passing, called out: "Hello, Ned," and stopped. Ned gave something between a grin and a gasp in return. Then, stooping over as if to untangle the reins, he whispered barely loud enough for me to hear: "It's Mars Furbish. He lived ober dar at E----, and knowed Miss Salome." I caught the clue the quick-witted old negro had given me, and leaning forward, addressed a polite "Good evening, Mr. Furbish," to the man I had never seen before. He pulled off his cap in return. "I am very anxious to get on without delay," I added. "Will you kindly tell those gentlemen who I am? I think you can assure them I am not a spy." His action had been noticed by the officers, and as I spoke, they called him over to them. "Do you know that lady!" I heard them ask.