He retreated to it on the night the levee was blown up by the Union soldiers, and spent the most of his time there until all danger of capture was past.
When Dan appeared upon the bank of the bayou a dark object, which was crouching at the water's edge near the foot of the sycamore, suddenly sprang up and glided into the bushes out of sight.

Its movements were quick and noiseless, but still they did not escape the notice of Dan, who dropped on the instant and hid behind a fallen log that happened to be close at hand.

He did not have time to take a good look at the object, but he saw enough of it to frighten him thoroughly.

He thrust his cocked rifle cautiously over the log, directing the muzzle toward the sycamore, but his hand was unsteady and his face was as white as a sheet.
"Looked to me like a man," thought Dan, trembling in every limb, "but in course it couldn't be; so it's one of them haunts what lives in the General's lane." Dan kept his gaze directed across the bayou, and could scarcely restrain himself from jumping up and taking to his heels when he saw a head, covered with a torn and faded hat, raised slowly and cautiously above the leaning trunk of the sycamore.

It remained motionless for a moment and Dan's eyes were sharp enough to see that there was a face below the hat--a tanned and weather-beaten face, the lower portion of which was concealed by thick, bushy whiskers.