At length we saw a young man--apparently a scout--on horseback, but his clothes were equally divided between the blue and the butternut, as to give no clue to which side he belonged.
An hour later we saw two infantrymen, who were evidently out foraging.
They had sacks of something on their backs, and wore blue clothes.

This was a very hopeful sign of a near approach to our lines, but bitter experience in the past warned us against being too sanguine.
About 4 o'clock P.M., the trains stopped and whistled long and loud.
Looking out I could see--perhaps half-a-mile away--a line of rifle pits running at right angles with the track.

Guards, whose guns flashed as they turned, were pacing up and down, but they were too far away for me to distinguish their uniforms.
The suspense became fearful.
But I received much encouragement from the singular conduct of our guards.

First I noticed a Captain, who had been especially mean to us while at Florence.
He was walking on the ground by the train.

His face was pale, his teeth set, and his eyes shone with excitement.