We bent our way toward the Warwick road. At the point where we reached it, the ground was low and wet, but farther on we could see dryer ground. We crossed the road and went to the low hills. From a tree I could see the village of Warwick about a mile or so to the west, with the road, in places, running east. There seemed to be no movement going on. Nick was lying on the ground, moody and silent. I had no more tobacco. I came down from the tree and told Nick to lead the way through the woods until we could get near the rebel pickets where their line crossed the road. About nine o'clock we were lying in the bushes near the edge of felled timber, through an opening in which, ran the road at our left. At long intervals a man would pass across the road where it struck the picket-line. Both from the map and from Nick's imperfect delivery of his topographical knowledge I was convinced that the main rebel line was behind the Warwick River, and that here was nothing but an outpost; and I was considering whether it would not be best to turn this position on the north, reach the river as rapidly as possible, and make for Lee's Mill, which I understood was the rebel salient, and see what was above that point, when I heard galloping in the road behind us. Nick had heard the noise before it reached my ears. A rebel horseman dashed by; at the picket-line he stopped, and remained a few moments without dismounting; then went on up the road toward Warwick Court-House. At once there was great commotion on the picket-line. We crept up as near as we dared; men were hurrying about, getting their knapsacks and falling into ranks. Now came a squadron of cavalry from down the road; they passed through the picket-line, and were soon lost to sight. Then the picket marched off up the road. Ten minutes more and half a dozen cavalrymen came--the rear-guard of all, I was hoping--and passed on. The picket post now seemed deserted. Partly with the intention of getting nearer the river, but more, I confess, with the hope of appeasing hunger, Nick and I now cautiously approached the abandoned line. We were afraid to show ourselves in the road, so we crawled through the felled timber. The camp was entirely deserted. Scattered here and there over the ground were the remains of straw beds; some brush arbours--improvised shelters--were standing; we found enough broken pieces of hardtack to relieve our most pressing want. I followed the line of felled timber to the north; it ended within two hundred yards of the road. "Nick," said I; "what is between us and the river in this direction?" pointing northwest. "Noth'n' but woods tell you git down in de bottom," said Nick. "And the bottom, is it cultivated? Is it a field?" "Yassa; some of it is, but mos' of it ain't." "Are there any more soldiers on this side of the river?" "You mean 'long here?" "Yes."