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."
"Or else it was cut down, as a blind," said I; "likely enough its purpose was merely to keep troops on this road from being seen."
"Still," said he, "they may be back farther in the woods."
I did not believe it. If this felled timber defended the approach to a rebel line, we were near enough to the line to hear many noises. The only thing I now feared was some scouting party.