Fearing to approach the outposts looking weary and fagged out, I rested for an hour, and then rode up and accosted one of them.

To his challenge I said I was a country boy, and had come in to see the soldiers.

My father and brother, I said, were fighting with Forrest, and I was almost persuaded to enlist myself.
My story satisfied the guard and I was passed.

A little farther on I obtained permission to pasture my horse with a herd of animals belonging to the Confederates and, afoot, I proceeded to the camp of the soldiers.

By acting the part of the rural Tennesseean, making little purchases from the negro food-stands, and staring open-mouthed at all the camp life, I picked up a great deal of information without once falling under suspicion.
The question now uppermost in my mind was how I was going to get away.
Toward evening I returned to the pasture, saddled my mare and rode to the picket line where I had entered.