Once, when a young boy, he had come to Washington with his father for a stay of several weeks, and he had a fair acquaintance with the region about the capital.

He knew that forested hills lay ahead of him and beyond them the Potomac.
In another hour he was in the hills, which he found without people.
Through every opening in the leaves he saw Washington and he could also discern long lines of redoubts on the Virginia side of the river.
Late in the afternoon he came to a small, abandoned log cabin.

He inferred that its owner had moved away because of the war.

As nearly as he could judge it had not been occupied for several weeks.

Back of it was a small meadow enclosed with a rail fence, but everything else was deep woods.