It was to him in all its aspects an Indian battle, and he believed in spite of what Warner had said that the enemy had retired permanently.
Colonel Winchester and all the officers rose to their feet presently and walked among the trees.

No bullets came to tell them that they were rash and then the senior officers held a conference, while all the men remounted, save a dozen or so who would ride no more.

But the colonel did not abate one whit of his craft or caution.
They resumed the march toward Grant, but they avoided every field or open space.

They would make curves and lose time in order to keep in the dense wood, but, as Dick knew, Colonel Winchester still suspected that Forrest was hovering somewhere on his flank, covered by the great forest and awaiting a favorable opportunity to attack.
They approached one of the deep and narrow streams that ultimately find their way to the Mississippi.

It had only one ford, and the scouts galloping back informed them that the farther shore was held by a powerful force of cavalry.
"It's Forrest," said Colonel Winchester with quiet conviction.