Several times they saw Southern sentinels on the slopes near the edge of the woods, but May and Powell knew the ground so thoroughly that they were always able to keep the little troop under cover without interfering with their own scouting operations.
Buell had given final instructions to the colonel to come back with all the information possible, and, led by his capable guides, the colonel used his opportunities to the utmost.

He made a half circle about Frankfort, going to the river, and then back again.

With the aid of the glasses and the brilliancy of the night he was able to see that the division of Kirby Smith was not strong enough to hold the town under any circumstances, if the main Union army under Buell came up, and the colonel was resolved that it should come.
It was a singular coincidence that the Southerners were making a military occupation of Frankfort with a Union army only a day's march away.

The colonel found a certain grim irony in it as he took his last look and turned away to join Buell.
A half mile into the forest and they heard the crashing of hoofs in the brushwood.

Colonel Winchester drew up his little troop abruptly as a band of men in gray emerged into an open space.
"Confederate cavalry!" exclaimed Dick.
"Yes," said the colonel.
But the gray troopers were not much more numerous than the blue.
Evidently they were a scouting party, too, and for a few minutes they stared at each other across a space of a couple of hundred yards or so.
Both parties fired a few random rifle shots, more from a sense of duty than a desire to harm.