One of our fellows told me he saw a whole regiment of them off there to the right." He plunged deeper into the bush and walked on as if he were among his own comrades.

He realized that his faded uniform with its dye of yellow mud had caused him to be mistaken for one of Pemberton's men.

His accent, which was Kentuckian and therefore Southern, had helped him also.

He passed three or four other men, bent over, rifle in hand and watching, and he nodded to them familiarly.

In such a crisis he knew that boldness and ease were his best cards, and he said to one of the men, with a laugh: "You'll have to tell us Tennesseeans about all your bayous and creeks.
I've just fallen into one that had no right to be there." "You Tennesseeans need a bath anyhow," replied the man, chuckling.
"We'd never choose a Mississippi stream for it," said Dick in the same vein, and passed on leaving the rifleman in high good humor.