It was difficult to believe that the rebels would venture up the gully; they could not know how small was our force; if they should march a company up the ravine, the company would be exposed to capture by a sudden rush of our skirmishers. It was probable, however, that a few men would try to sneak up in order to see how many we were; yet even this supposition was not necessary, for the rebels were having everything their own way, and need risk nothing. So I decided in my own mind to be as patient as possible until dark. The firing on both sides had ceased, except that an occasional Whitworth bullet would come at us, fired at such long range that we could not hear the report; the heads of the rebels were no longer seen. What were they planning? I was uneasy; I wished that we could find a means for communicating with our friends in the rear; if they would open fire again, we might rush out. Yet after all it was best to be quiet until dark. I relieved Freeman at the porthole; Holt relieved Thompson at the bend. Since eleven o'clock Fort Willis had not fired a shot; our game had been blocked. The notion now came to me that if the rebels wanted us, the way to get us would be to send men up the ravine just before dark, and at the same time for a squad of them to steal through the woods to our left, where they would be ready for us when we should steal out. "Sergeant!" "What?" "Think we'd better get back." "What's the matter now?" "Just at dark is the time for the rebels to catch us." "Fact, by--!" says Willis. "If you want to get out," said Freeman, the inventor, "I'm here to tell you how to do it." "Le's have it," says Willis. "Make a big smoke!" Why had I not thought of that expedient? Between, us and Holt, down at the bend, there was brush growing on the sides of the ravine. Our knives and the spade were put to use; soon we had a big heap of green boughs and sprigs. It would take work to touch her off, for there was no dry wood; but we managed by finding the remains of cartridge papers and using a free supply of gunpowder. When all was ready, Holt was recalled, and the match was struck. "Now, men, to your portholes!" says Willis. "We must give 'em a partin' salute." The flame was long in catching. Every eye was alternately peeping to the front and looking anxiously at the brush heap. At last she caught, and a thin column of black smoke began to ascend. "Be sharp, now! Them rebs will want to know what we're up to." A few curious heads could be seen, but no shot was fired at us, or by us at them. The smoke increased, but, alas! the wind was wrong and blew it away from the woods. "Hell and Tom Walker!" says Willis.