The country which had been comparatively level and well settled for some distance back through the valley, became rough again as I neared the mountains, and I had to make my way more slowly and cautiously.
I seemed to have run out of the stream of Rebels. I determined to question the first person I met. Before long I saw a weak minded looking man driving a few sheep along a narrow path, and coming from the opposite direction.
"Howdy, stranger?" I began.
"Howdy?" he returned.
"You're pretty fortunate to get through with them sheep, without their being turned into mutton."
"Met nobody to turn 'em; ain't nobody up that way."
From this I judged that the country ahead was free of both Rebels and Yankees as far back as he had come. He eyed me suspiciously while talking, but was evidently telling the truth as far as he knew it. He seemed in a great hurry to get away from me with his sheep, and after asking him for minute directions for a road that turned to the right about four miles ahead and which I did not intend to take, we separated.
After parting from him I shortly turned to my left, having decided that as soon as I came to it, which I knew would be in a little time, I would avail myself of a road leading over the mountains.