I must have used up a good quarter of an hour getting through.

Twice I made missteps, and some racket, but there was no challenge.

I emerged at the opening of a small ravine, where I could lie down flat behind a low rock, and look back up the road, which ran down hill.

I felt reasonably certain Billie would have to come this way if he intended to cross the river at Carter's Ford, and I knew of no other place he could cross this side the big bridge.

The aide would be riding with him, of course, and that would make me certain of my man when he came, although how I was ever going to manage was more than I had as yet figured out.
I must have been there some twenty minutes, maybe more, burrowing down into the mud under the lee of the stone, staring straight up the hill at the fire.