Were the rebel vedettes in this felled timber? Most unlikely, unless there were alleyways open for their retreat. But perhaps the strip of timber was very narrow, and the rebel vedettes were just in rear of it; perhaps it was cut only along the margin of the branch, and in order to impede and expose to hearing any enemy that might succeed in crossing the branch. But, in that case, would not the timber be a protection rather than a hindrance to the enemy advancing or stealing forward? Yes, unless the vedettes were just in rear of this very narrow strip, or unless the rebel intrenchments were in easy musket range. These thoughts went through my mind while I was on the bank with Allen below me. I hesitated. Beyond this skirt of felled timber there might be capture, or death, or there might be no danger whatever. I was beginning to hope that there was no vedette or picket-line in these woods. Whispering to Allen to remain where he was, I crept forward; after having made some ten paces through the entanglement, I paused and listened. There was not a sound. I crept back to Allen, and, giving him my hand, helped him up the bank. Then we both went forward until I supposed we were near the spot to which I had previously advanced. Allen was now signalled to stop, while I crept on again, and again returned to him; then both went forward as before. On this second stage of our approach we passed through to the farther side of the felled timber. We were now on the edge of woods still standing. I feared every moment lest we should be detected by some vedette. The enemy's works ought to be very near; neither spoke to the other; abatis without intrenchments was not to be thought of. Yet I was hoping to find the intrenchments deserted. The rain had almost entirely ceased. The night was growing. We had used up at least an hour's time, and had made an advance of less than two hundred yards. I moved forward again--and back--alternately alone and with Allen forward--until at length I reached a road running across my line of progress. After listening again intently and hearing nothing, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled across the road. I could tell with my hands that the road was cut up with ruts, and what I supposed were horses' tracks, but it was impossible for me to know which way the tracks headed. Beyond the road the woods continued; I crawled on for thirty or forty yards, and found nothing. Then I returned to Allen, and speaking low I asked him, "What do you think that skirt of felled timber means?" "It means breastworks over there in the woods," said he. "But I have been at least thirty yards beyond the road and there is nothing. I am beginning to believe that there is not a rebel left in these woods." "Then," said he, "the timber was cut down with the intention of fortifying, and afterward the intention was abandoned."