"Against secession," I promptly responded.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"In Waco."

"Then, why didn't you vote there?"

Without giving me time to answer, one of the armed men came up and

addressed me with,

"You was afraid to vote there, was you?"

"If I was afraid to vote there, I am not afraid to vote here," I said,

imitating his tone and manner as much as possible.

"How is it that you want to vote here?" asked the clerk.

"Because I am a ranger, and by law have a right to vote anywhere at a

State election," I answered.

When they found I was in the frontier service, there was no further

parley, and my vote was taken, and my name registered. But when I

started for my horse, I was followed by the armed crowd; and as I

mounted they seemed inclined to enter into a conversation. But knowing

that any further parley with them would only result in a collision or a

dishonorable retreat, I put spurs to my horse, and left. As I was going

out of the town I heard a voice shout: "O yes! O yes! the polls of the

election are now closed." The law required that they should be kept open

from 6 A. M. to 6 P. M.; but these had not been kept open more than

forty minutes--perhaps not that long.

_CHAPTER XIII._

OUT IN THE WILDERNESS.

This was the last village I had to pass, and I was soon far away in the

solitudes of the wilderness, where political contests are unknown. Game

was plentiful. Far out on the Jim Ned creek I found a new settlement,

made since my last visit to that part of the country. It was built by a

man named Hunter, who was a hunter by occupation; and he invited me to

make my home with him while I remained in that section; remarking, at

the same time, that as the Indians were pretty thick, we had better hunt

together; and I accepted his hospitality.

His family consisted of a wife, two daughters, and a son-in-law; one of

the ladies being single. One evening, as I was returning to the house,

after a lonely day's tramp through the woods, I chanced to meet the

younger of the two daughters, nearly two miles from the house, carrying

with her a rifle and a pistol. She asked me if I had seen her cows, but

I regret to say that I had not. I then asked her if she had any idea how

far she was from home; and she answered correctly, and with perfect

coolness, regardless of the danger from the savages who continually

infested the neighborhood. Nor did she seem in the least disturbed when

I informed her that I had seen at least a half a dozen that day; but she

quietly inquired:

"What sort of a hide is that you've got?"

It was the skin of a panther nine and a half feet long. She examined it

closely, but expressed neither surprise nor fear when I told her that I

had killed it within a quarter of a mile of the spot where she then

stood. I then went with her till she found her cows, when I drove them

home; and frequently, after that, we went cow hunting together. She

always carried her rifle with her, and could bring down a deer, at a

distance of a hundred yards, as well as a man could do it. She had

never yet been attacked by Indians in her lonely rambles, and if she had

been, more than one would have been required to get off safely. She had

been at a neighbor's house, some time before, when it was hemmed in by

savages, and besieged for several hours. There were several men in the

house to defend it, but she was the only female, save the wife of the

owner of the cabin. The men were only there by chance; they were

hunters, and being pressed by Indians, took refuge in the house,

otherwise she and the lady owner would have been there alone.

During the attack Miss Hunter moulded bullets for the men, and rendered

every assistance in her power, keeping perfectly calm and collected all

the time, though she full well knew the terrible doom that awaited her

if the savages succeeded in carrying the house by storm, or in setting

it on fire.

We could often kill deer by standing in the door of the old man's house;

and his dogs almost nightly had a row with a catamount, or some other

wild animal which was essaying to carry off his pigs or chickens from

his very door.

I remained with Mr. Hunter several weeks, when having accumulated all

the peltries my horse could carry, I started on my return to the

settlements, after giving the family with which I had lived so

pleasantly an affectionate good bye. I had been so kindly treated that I

was loth to leave, and his wife urged me now that as I had killed their

winter's meat, I ought to remain and help eat it; but I could not

entirely make up my mind to do so, and we parted.

On the way back to Waco I witnessed a very singular contest. On reaching

the edge of the settlements, I encamped one night beneath a very large

live oak tree, and in the morning, just as I was getting ready to start,

I espied a very large pack of wolves chasing a young heifer across the

prairie. There must have been nearly a hundred of these animals in the

pack, and when I discovered them she was getting extremely wearied, and,

indeed, nearly exhausted. Near by was a herd of about one hundred and

fifty cattle, of all sizes, beside young calves, and for these the

heifer made direct for the herd, bellowing at every jump. No sooner did

the herd discover her distress than the old cattle commenced snorting,

and soon ran together in a huddle, with their heads outward, and making

a complete circle, enclosing the calves.

[Illustration: "When we got there I was immediately surrounded by about

two hundred men, some crying 'Hang him!' 'Shoot him!' 'Shoot the d--d

Yankee!' and several of them leveled their guns on me."--Page 241.]

The heifer at length reached the flock, and after running twice around

the circle found a position in it, when she at once assumed a defiant

attitude. The wolves followed her till she reached a place of security;

and so many were there of them that they became scattered into a

complete circle, entirely enclosing the cows. The cattle stood eyeing

the intruders for a time, and then raised a loud snort, and

simultaneously charged upon the wolves and drove them flying over the

prairie for several hundred yards.

It was amusing to see the change in the deportment of the wolves. A few

minutes before they were pursuing their victim at a furious rate, with

ears and tails erect, the hair of their necks on end, tongues lapping

for blood, and eyes aglare with rage; but now they were flying with ears

drooping, tails between their legs, and piteous looks--a perfect

photograph of fright personified. The wolves were scattered in every

direction, and some of them were still running, though many had taken

courage to halt and reconnoitre, when I concluded to take a hand in the

imbroglio, and therefore commenced shooting at the animals, and those

that were nearest me doubtless felt the effects of my shot, for several

fled to a high hill not far off, while those at a distance turned around

to see what new enemy had presented himself.

After I fired my pistols off, I very foolishly neglected to reload them,

though I continued howling like a wolf to call them up so I could fire

into them again if I so desired. Before I was aware of it five very

large gray ones bounded up from behind me, full of fight. I did not want

to break my pistols, so I picked up a large bone that lay at the root of

the tree, and began to fight my assailants with great vigor, believing I

could soon run them off, "but they didn't run worth a cent," but would

stand sideways to me, then springing straight up into the air and

turning their heads around, snap at me. Their jaws would snap like a

steel trap when they closed, and every time I hit one over the head his

eyes would almost blaze with rage. I struck and kicked them several

times, but finding that they were not disposed to retreat, I thought

perhaps it might be prudent for me to do so, and walking backward, I

made for my pony, and when near enough, mounted with a spring and dashed

off some distance and loaded my pistols. The wolves did not attempt to

pursue nor did I fire at them again; for so large a pack had they

endeavored to do so, might have pulled my horse down and torn both it

and me into fragments, and devoured us. Another incentive to a retreat

was the fact that the smell of my peltries had already begun to attract

their attention, and even if I did not annoy them by any more firing, I

was by no means safe; and I therefore made the best of my way to Waco.

_CHAPTER XIV._

FAREWELL TO DIXIE.

When I arrived at Waco I found the wildest excitement every where

prevailing. A large number of Union men had been arrested, and several

hanged. Neither the property nor the life of the loyal people was safe.

A number of men for no other offense than refusing to openly commit

themselves to secession, were rendered homeless by the torch of the

incendiary; and like the leper, no one would give them shelter. A draft

was imperiously called for, for already it was discovered that however

much the Southern heart was fired, the number of volunteers the exigency

demanded, was not forthcoming. Draft, draft, draft; every where the word

was repeated; nothing would satisfy the rebels but a resort to

conscription; but they knew less of the unpleasant character of that

bitter operation than they did three years after, or they might have

hesitated before demanding a resort to the wheel of fortune.

Soon after my return, a ranger, named Michael Somerville, an Alabamian,

and a friend of mine, quietly informed me that the vigilance committee

had my case under consideration, and had been discussing the propriety

of hanging me, and that the subject had been broached to the rangers,

but it was soon discovered that I had entirely too many friends to

permit them to molest me seriously. It was then resolved to draft me;

and to this my friends offered no objection. About the last of July,

1861, an order for a conscription in McClennan county was received at

Waco. The document came in on the mail stage from Austin about nine

o'clock at night, and on the following morning, after eating an

unusually early breakfast, I mounted my pony and was off for the north.

The first place aimed for was Jefferson, at the head of Soda lake, a

place of some commercial importance; and on reaching it, I found the

excitement there as wild as at Waco. Already large quantities of stores

were being accumulated there, to be used in the pending campaign, and

the streets continually echoed to the sound of the drum, as company

after company of the Johnnies passed through them. From Jefferson I

started to the north western corner of Louisiana, where the State joins

both Texas and Arkansas. While traveling along one day, I heard some

guns firing a short distance to my left, but supposing it to be a

company of troops discharging a volley at a target, I paid no attention

to the matter. But presently two men rode hurriedly past, and from what

I could gather of their conversation, I was led to believe that some

horrid transaction had just taken place. Desirous of knowing something

of its nature, I rode rapidly along, and soon overtook the two men and

entered into a conversation with them, and asked them, in a careless

manner, what the firing meant; and in response, one of them gave me the

details of a most horrible murder which had just been committed. A house

stood near the corner of the State, to which I have already adverted,

owned by a prominent Union man, whose name I can not now give, it having

slipped my memory; and it appears that he had given offense to a Captain

Jolly, who was an aspirant for a commission in the rebel army; and that

as a method of revenging himself, Captain Jolly had led twenty-four men

to the house, and in cold blood, he and his party shot down and killed

four men and wounded two more; and that they had likewise killed a negro

woman. My companions manifested the utmost abhorrence at the deed, and

soon gave me to understand that they, themselves, were Union men.

As I traveled through Arkansas, I passed myself off as a nephew of

Albert Pike, who was at that time a Brigadier General in the rebel

service; replying, when questioned, that I was going to Little Rock to

see the General, and enter the service. Of course I had to play the part

of a secessionist all this time; had I done otherwise, my life would

have paid the forfeit. But once in Little Rock, I had played my game

out, and I had not the remotest idea how I was next to proceed; but

knowing that delay was dangerous, I at once set about contriving a way

of escape, and finally got off.

Near the town of Arkadelphia, I overtook a preacher on the road, and we

immediately entered into a conversation on the political situation, and

I was not long in ascertaining that his sympathies were with the Union

cause; I then told him frankly, that I was a Union man, and I inquired

of him how persons of that political faith were treated in that region.

He appeared frightened at my frankness; and as we were near the town, he

advised me not to go through it, but take a byway that led around it,

and into my road again some distance beyond the place. He then stated

that at least twenty men had been hung in that vicinity, for their

devotion to the old government.

I politely declined to accept his advice, as to making a circuit of the

town, but told him I would ride through to see the sights; and on

arriving in front of the hotel, I dismounted, threw myself "around a

drink," and then mounted again; but did not ride off immediately, as I

had entered into an interesting conversation with the clergyman. But I

had not been there long, when I was surrounded by a large crowd of

soldiers, who at once set to questioning me, as to what was the news,

where I was going, where I was from, etc.; and to all of these, my

answers were so different from the tenor of our private conversation,

that the Reverend Gentleman must have pronounced me, in his mind, as a

rival of Baron Munchausen, with a fair prospect of eclipsing his fame.

Nevertheless, he seemed pleased at the sudden political summersault I

had turned, and he doubtless fully appreciated my motives for becoming

so readily a convert to secession.

While riding along with my clerical friend, I was warned of a "little

log grocery on the hill," where, my informant said, about a dozen men,

mostly strangers, had been set upon and killed, by secessionists, since

the political excitement had commenced. It was located in a dense, piny

woods, and frequented by the lowest class of men in the country; but

this admonition instead of rendering me cautious, only excited me, and

started within me a desire to "see the sights;" and I therefore rode

directly up to the grocery, which, on my arrival, contained no man

except the keeper. I at once dismounted, and entered, determined to see

what the place was like. The landlord of the place was a very clever

man--all grocery keepers are, you know, on the same principle that the

cat is, while you stroke it the way the fur lays--and at once entered

into a conversation with me about the state of the country, and _our_

prospects of whipping the yankees; and of course, according to our

figures, it would be easily accomplished. When he learned that I was a

nephew of Albert Pike, he was glad to see me, and insisted on my

remaining with him, which I did, from the time of my arrival, at noon,

till ten o'clock the next day.

During the afternoon, a party of men collected around the place to

drink, talk politics, and curse the yankees; and of course I bore my

part, and if some of my yankee friends could have heard me "set them

up," they would have been astonished at my hypocrisy, if not edified by

my discourse. At supper, my new found friend shut up the grocery, and

took me home with him to supper, and I was introduced to his wife and

brother, as a nephew of Albert Pike. His wife prepared for me a splendid

meal, while he took me around and showed me his place, stock, crops, and

niggers, all of which, of course, I admired. While we were eating

supper, his brother came in, and called him out, and the two stood

whispering together for some time in an excited manner, at the same

time, as I thought, casting suspicious glances at me; after which the

elder brother went away abruptly. What now, I wondered; was there some

scheme on foot against me? They eyed me several times exceedingly

closely; and I asked myself: could there be any suspicion against me? I

had certainly not been indiscreet? then what could that hurried manner,

and those sidelong glances portend?

I began to think I had been followed from Texas by some vindictive

rebel, who wanted to prevent my going north, when the mystery was

suddenly solved, without my being compelled to ask any questions. The

man, whose name was White, informed me that his brother had just been in

to invite us over to a dance. His daughter was married a few days since,

and they had been dancing ever since. This was the third night, and the

party would break up in the morning. What a weight of anxiety that

declaration, which I saw was made in good faith, removed from my mind! I

tried to beg off, as I needed rest; but it was of no use; his brother,

he said, would accept no refusal; and without more ado, I went.

We had a walk of about two miles through a gloomy swamp, when we began

to hear the sound of a violin breaking the stillness of the night; and

also the sound of shuffling feet, keeping time to the music, together

with the heavy rattling of a puncheon floor; and very soon after, we

emerged from among the bushes into a little clearing, where was a large

double log-cabin: with lights streaming out through every crevice; and

into this we entered without ceremony. Forty or fifty stalwart men--real

sons of the forest--were there, with checkered coats and what had been

linen standing collars on heavy cotton shirts with no bosoms; but, alas!

exercise in a hot climate in midsummer generates sweat, and sweat will

tell upon standing collars; and theirs were clinging to the neck like

wet rags; they likewise had on striped home-made pants, and very heavy

cowhide boots.

Some of the girls were truly handsome. I never was much of a critic of

ladies' clothing, and, therefore, I will not here undertake to describe

the outline, except to say that the dresses were of very costly

material, and made after the very latest of rustic fashion, and each one

was highly pleased with her appearance.

On a kitchen table sat a very big, and, certainly, a very black negro,

playing the violin, and calling off, in mellifluous sing-song tones,

tuning his voice to the music of his instrument, perfectly. There were

two cotillions on the floor, whirling and twirling, in the giddy mazes

of the dance, to the voluptuously measured cadence of the "Arkansas

Traveler"; (who has not heard it?). The music is familiar to almost

every ear, but, alas! how few there are who have been so favored by

Divine Providence and propitious circumstances as to have seen the

"Arkansas Traveler" danced by natives to the _manor_ "born"--no other

people know the _manner_ of its performance, as do the people of

Arkansas; and no other musician can render the piece on the violin or

banjo like a Arkansas plantation darkey. By the side of the fiddler sat

a veteran banjo picker, who added much to the effect of the music; and,

as the fiddler called off the figures of the dance, this old darkey

would recite the dialogue of the Arkansas Traveler, keeping perfect time

to the music. For the benefit of the reader who has never had the

pleasure of seeing it performed, I will endeavor to convey an idea of

it, although one can give but a faint conception, on paper: the thing

must be seen and heard to be appreciated.

The scene represents a belated traveler in Arkansas, in an "airly day."

I suppose, reader, when your "dad" and mine were boys, or, perhaps,

earlier, he halts before a dilapidated cabin, to see if he can get to

stay all night. It is a miserable squalid place. The rain is pouring

down in torrents, and the old man of the house is perched on a whisky

barrel in the only dry corner, playing the first part of a tune. The

children are huddled around the fire, peering curiously at the stranger,

while the old woman, with one arm a-kimbo, is stirring a pot of mush

over the fire, holding her dress back between her knees, to keep it from

burning. The roof of the cabin is partly demolished; a couple of pigs

ruminating about on the ground-floor, and chickens, with dripping

feathers, roosting on the timbers over head. This is the state of

affairs when the story opens; the reader can gather the remainder as the

old banjo player recites it.

"Balance all," shouts the fiddler; when the old banjo picker starts off

with:

"Hello, ole man, kin I get ter stay here all nite, rad di di da di di da

da da."

[Illustration: "I once went into the dungeon where these men were, and

found them handcuffed, and chained in pairs by the neck with a padlock

that would weigh two pounds; these padlocks were larger than a man's

hand."--Page 242.]

"First and third couple, forward and back," yells the fiddler.

"Yer kin get ter go ter de ole boy, I guess," breaks in the banjo

picker, keeping time with the dancers' feet.

"First lady balance second gemman."

"I say, ole man, whar doe dis road go to, rad di di da di di da da?"

"Swing," yells the fiddler, and old white head goes on with:

"I ben a livin' here about forty years an' it aint gone no whar yit, ra

di di da di di da da da," etc.

"How far is it to de forks ob de road? rad di di da," etc.

"Ef yer done kep on, yer done ben dar by dis time," then again chimed in

his rad di di da di di da da da.

"I say ole man, is ye gwine ter let me stay all nite? rad di di da da."

At the next break in the music, he answers:

"Aint got nuffin to eat, stranger, yer better go on ter de nex house,

rad di di da da," etc.

"How far is it, ole man, to de nex house? ra di di da da," etc.

A pause then ensues, when he continues:

"'Bout nineteen miles, I guess, rad di di da," etc.

"Ole man, dats too fur ter ride ter nite in de rain."

He then paused, in order not to speak his part, when the other called

off, but after the call, chimed in again:

"I can't help dat, yer know, rad di di da da."

After a moment's reflection, the traveler seems to resolve on a new

course of tactics, and begins with:

"I say, ole man, why don't yer put a new roof on yer house? rad di di da

di di da da."

"Oh, er's a rainen too hard."

"Why don't yer put de roof on when it aint a rainen? rad di di da," etc.

"Oh, when er don't rain, er don't need it, rad di di da di di da."

The old fellow keeps on playing, while the traveler again reflects a

moment; one thing is certain, it is raining too hard to proceed, and he

must stop; and a happy idea suggests itself. Hitherto the man with the

fiddle had only played one part of the tune, and it seemed to be a

favorite air; and the traveler, who is himself a master violinist and

composer, says:

"I say, ole man," (the reader will remember I give it as the darkey

recited it), "why don't yer play de rest ob dat piece? rad di di da di

di da da."

All this time the dance is progressing, and the young folks "spreading"

themselves, and full of glee, at the recitation, while the violinist

almost excels himself.

"Don't know no more; does you know it all? rad di di da."

"Sartinly, I does." Instantly the old man springs from the whisky

barrel, invites the traveler to dismount, orders one of his own little

urchins to put the traveler's horse in the stable, tells his wife to get

supper, assures the traveler that his son will soon be back from mill;

has a chicken taken down and killed for supper, has a jug of whisky

brought in from the smoke-house, and assures the traveler that they are

not so nearly starved out as he had a moment before supposed; then

mounting his guest on the whisky barrel, gives him the fiddle, and calls

for the balance of the tune, which was played with a gusto, and

christened the "Arkansas Traveler," since so popular among violinists.

The dance was exceedingly amusing. The girls moved very lightly and with

considerable grace; but the men made a tremendous lumbering over the

loose puncheon floor. When it came to the "balance all," the heeling and

toeing of those heavy boots, was positively horrifying; but the "swing"

was rendered with such a hearty good will, and the girls seemed to enjoy

it so well, that I almost wished I was a dancer myself.

The bride showed us to the supper room, where we found a table loaded

with every luxury which the State could afford. We did justice to the

viands, and then went back to the dance. The bride was anxious to dance

with me; at least her uncle told me so; and I felt considerably abashed,

when I told him I could not dance. Not to be able to dance, in Arkansas,

is as bad as to be no horseman, in Texas. The bride went through one set

with her uncle, who appeared to be about the best dancer in the house.

The girls all seemed to vie with her, which made me conclude that they

wished themselves in her place; while the lady herself acted and looked

as pretty as she knew how.

The fiddler threw all his powers into his playing and his stentorian

voice; and the men heeled and toed with a hearty goodwill, and the

puncheons rattled beneath their measured, swinging tread. It was a

complete and graphic picture of good old fashioned social life. Indeed,

the dancers exerted themselves so long, and well, that the puncheons

seemed to take up their spirit, and appeared as if endeavoring to

extemporize a hornpipe on their own hook. I had often heard the old

story of the man in Arkansas who gathered up half a bushel of toe nails

on his floor, after a dance; and I was scarcely inclined to doubt its

truth, after what I witnessed on that night.

We enjoyed ourselves hugely, till after twelve o'clock, when we went

back to my friend's house. When I was about to start, on the following

day, he insisted that I should remain longer with him; but I urged the

pressing state of affairs, telling him that we Southerners must take the

field, as quickly as possible, if we would prevent the country from

being overrun by the Yankee vandals of the North. Excuse me, reader, but

I was talking at a mark then.

When I arrived at Little Rock, I found the town full of soldiers, who

had come in response to the first call of the Governor for three

thousand men; and these were the same troops who fought at Wilson's

Creek, a short time after. While at Little Rock, I was attacked by

bilious fever, and was sick for ten days. I stopped at a hotel kept by

Capt. Lee, who was a violent secessionist. My story about being a nephew

of Albert Pike, was of great service to me; and I was enabled to keep up

appearances, without being detected, by the fact that he and his sons

were all out in the Indian Nation, recruiting savages for the rebel

service.

When I got well, and was able to leave, I found myself guard bound. The

town was under military law, and every road was picketed, so that escape

was next to impossible. I had been compelled to sell my horse to pay

expenses while sick, getting but fifteen dollars for an animal worth at

least one hundred; and I was walking along the levee a little

disconsolate, when I saw a little steamboat called the William Henry,

and I immediately went on board of her. Looking around, I saw the

carpenter at work on the bow, and I stepped up to him, and inquired if

he wanted any help, telling him I would assist him down to Napoleon, for

my fare. To this proposition he readily assented; remarking that he

always liked to have help when there was work to do.

While I was talking to him he stuck the foot adze into his foot, and cut

the big toe almost loose from his left foot. The blood flowed profusely,

and I at once set myself to work and bandaged up the wound, in the

presence of the captain and mate, and he was sent to the hospital

immediately. As soon as this was done, the captain turned to me and

said:

"Young man, are you a ship carpenter?"

"They call me one," I replied.

"Do you want to ship?" was his next question.

"Yes, for a while," was my response.

"Then go to work," said he, "and I'll give you fifty-five dollars a

month, and fare in the cabin."

"I'll do it," was my response, "as long as I like the boat; and I'll

tell you how I like it at Napoleon."

He was satisfied, and turned away, while I went on shore for my outfit.

At the tavern, I found no one but a _negro clerk_, to whom I paid my

bill; and, as he had too much manners to be inquisitive, I left the

house without being reported to the police--the hotels being required to

report all arrivals and departures to the military authorities. Once

more on the boat, she soon shoved out, and I began to feel tolerably

safe. I found there would be plenty of work all the time, but as I had

never been a carpenter--never having worked a stroke on either house or

boat in my life, I was a little afraid I should not be able to sustain

myself in that capacity. "A still tongue makes a wise head," was my

motto then; for I did not know the technical terms used by carpenters

or boatsmen. I did not know even all the names of the tools furnished me

to work with; so it was manifestly to my interest to preserve silence. I

went to work, however with confidence, and energy; resolved, if they

found out how little I knew, it should be by observation, and not from

anything I might say. The work must have been creditably done, for I

heard the captain boast to the pilot that I was the best "chip" he ever

had. My greatest horror was a recruiting officer, named Harrison, who

come down to see me. He was a reckless man, a planter, who seemed to

care little for money, and I may add, for anything else. He said he

wanted to raise a company of guerrillas, for the purpose of "carrying

the war into Africa;" and that he wanted young men who were not afraid

to follow him, and that he intended to go right into the Northern

States.

This boast may be a little amusing, but Mr. Harrison was not the only

one who at that time indulged in such hallucinations, and who

entertained such wild hopes. He intended, he said, when he got into the

Northern States, to "go for all that was in sight, and let the tail go

with the hide." I told him he was just the man to suit me, but I was

engaged on the boat, and could not quit her. His was the sort of service

I liked, but I could not go into it now, at least until the captain

could get another "chip;" but in the event that I enlisted, I would have

a preference for his company; and to make him believe I was serious, I

took his address. He was one of the men who accompanied Lopez to Cuba,

and said he had been in two fights on that island in an hour and a

quarter. He was satisfied to take my name as I gave it--Mr. Fitzhugh. He

would stand and talk to me and the other boat hands by the hour, and

often puzzled me by his sudden and almost inexplicable questions.

At Napoleon I sawed out five large hatches in the boat, so that freight

could be stowed very rapidly in the hull; and after this had been done,

the men began to load her throughout with military stores. The boxes

were handled very carelessly, and would frequently split open, when I

would be called upon to nail them up. They were filled with harness of

all kinds. Besides these the boat took on a large quantity of ammunition

for musketry and artillery, and also a full battery of guns, and

sixty-five government wagons; all consigned to Fort Scott, Arkansas, for

the use of Ben McCulloch's army. The next morning a large boat--the Mary

Kean--came alongside, and I told the captain I was too weak to work, and

would consequently go up to Memphis on her. He did not like to have me

leave him, but seeing that I was really not in good health, he offered

no objection. The best of the joke was, I told him I wanted to go into

the service, and that, by confederate law, he dare not dissuade me from

going. On board the Kean I found a great number of rebel officers,

strutting about in new uniforms and gauntlet gloves, with all the

dignity of princes of high degree. I took one look in the cabin, and

that was enough for me; and I instantly put down on deck, and stowed my

humble self away on a lot of coffeesacks.

The fever had returned on me, and I was suffering terribly. At Memphis I

stopped at the "Woodruff House," a neat little tavern, kept by a woman

named Smith, whose husband was in the rebel army, and was stationed at

that time at Fort Pillow. At this house I remained sick a week, and when

well enough to go out, I found myself once more guard-bound, with a

duller chance of making my escape than at Little Rock.

The first thing I did was to visit all the depots, at each one of which

I found a provost guard stationed, who inspected the passes of

passengers. I made a careless inquiry, and found that every road leading

from the city was picketed. It was at the time when Tennesseans were

moving their troops through Memphis into Missouri, a great part of which

were at Wilson's creek.

The provost marshal's office was kept by Col. C. H. Morgan, a man, by

the by, who very much resembled the notorious John H.; and to him I

went, telling him that I wanted to go to Bourbon county, Kentucky, where

my parents lived.

"Well, sir," said he, "you must bring with you two respectable

witnesses, whom I know, to testify that you are a good Southern man."

I replied that it would be useless to try to do that, as I was an utter

stranger in the city, and that no one knew any more of me than he did;

and he at once informed me that I could not leave the city. At this I

got angry, and told him I would go without a pass, and he replied that

he would have me arrested. I at once moved for the door, and as he had

no guard, he could not stop me. I told him that I did not think his

recommendation would be of much value to me or any other honest man, and

then made tracks.

This was in the evening, and that night I sold my Mexican saddle and

other equipments, which had belonged to my horse, so that I was without

baggage, except a pair of saddlebags, to carry; and I resolved at once

to get out of Memphis at all hazards.

Next morning, as I was standing in the door, I saw a great crowd about

the market-house, which was only a short distance from the tavern; and

when I first observed them, they were just about scattering to go home.

There were a great many country wagons there, which had come with

produce; and these were about to leave the city, and it occurred to me

that the opportune moment for escape had arrived. I hurried off, and

paid my bill, and then walked to the market-house, and hailed a

countryman, asking him to let me ride in his wagon. He did so

cheerfully, and when in I asked to be permitted to drive, to which he

agreed; and taking off my ranger blouse, I threw it in the wagon, and we

drove out. There were provost guards on duty in the streets, arresting

every suspicious person; and there were pickets at the end of each

street, but they did not stop us, as they evidently supposed we were

both farmers; and on we rattled through two camps of five thousand men

each, and finally reaching a point about six miles from the town, I

parted from my friend, and took the road for Nashville on foot.

At Summerville I was stopped by a crowd of men who were very anxious to

know who I was, where I was from, where I was going, what I had been

doing, and what I was going to do, and so on; and they also appeared

exceedingly anxious to ascertain my political opinions. Of course I was

secesh. I had been warned before I got to town that I had better go

around it, as no one was allowed to pass through it, unless they were

well known rebels. Nothing daunted, however, I halted in the village,

and sure enough, was overhauled and placed in the hands of the vigilance

committee.

On learning that I had been a ranger, one of them, a Mr. Reeves,

inquired if I knew any man of his name in Texas.

"Calvin Reeves?" I asked.

"Yes; and he is my brother," was the response. He then asked me a great

number of questions, which I answered without hesitation, and so

truthfully, that my account corresponded exactly with that which Reeves

had given himself. We had both been in Johnston's regiment, and our

narratives corresponded exactly. The examination lasted from twelve

o'clock till dark, after which they professed themselves satisfied that

all was right and released me, telling me that I could go on. But I had

not proceeded more than a hundred yards before I was called back, and

one of them said to me:

"You say you are going home?"

"Yes, sir;" I replied.

"You live in Paris, Bourbon county, Kentucky?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you intend to fight for the south, do you?" my questioner

persisted.

"I will if I know myself," said I.

"You think you will stick to your principles, when you get there?" he

said.

"Yes, sir, I feel very confident of that," I answered.

"You know," he continued, "that a good many Kentuckians are a little

tender-footed now; they don't like to come out against the Union, and

they don't like to go with the abolitionists; and I am afraid when you

get back there, you will let them talk you out of your principles."

"I am not so easily converted as that comes to," said I, jocularly.

"Well, how is it," he asked, "that you are on foot?"

"Because," was the reply, "I am unable to ride."

"Well, then," said he, "we will help you;" and they accordingly made up

a purse of eight dollars and seventy-five cents and gave it to me.

"Now," said one, "you go over to the tavern and stay all night."

I arose to comply, and was thanking them for their kind interest in my

welfare, when a stout looking man, who had sat in a group of three or

four others, apart from the near ones, rose and remarked:

"Young man, I think you had better go with me; I will give you

accommodations for the night."

He then led the way, and I followed him home, and he gave me a very good

supper, after which I retired at once. All this time I was wondering

what made him take such an interest in me. After I was in bed, Reeves

and a lawyer visited me, who said they had called to have some further

talk about Calvin Reeves and his doings in Texas; and it was not until I

had told them a second time all my acquaintance and experience with him

that I discovered they were comparing my statement with his.

"Why," I asked, "have you not seen him yet? He left Texas some time

since, to come home."

"O yes," they replied, "he has been at home, but has now gone off to

fight the yankees."

They bowed themselves out about midnight, after having talked me nearly

to sleep several times. The most of the conversation was about politics,

and I excused my ignorance on the different topics advanced, by telling

them I had just got in off the plains, and was not posted; but taking

good care to be just secesh enough to give confidence, and not strong

enough to arouse suspicion.

When they had gone, I began to flatter myself that I was done with them;

and that now all were satisfied and I should be troubled no more. Next

morning I met my host at the breakfast table, and found him dressed for

a journey. He then began a conversation by remarking:

"My name is John D. Stanley; I am sheriff of this county, and am going

down the road with you as far as La Grange. It is nearly car time now."

He then added that a man had been killed at La Grange, and he was going

down to see about it. We went to the cars together and occupied the same

seat; and on our journey he kept up a continued questioning; but I was

not to be thrown off my guard. He, however, only went as far as Warsaw

with me, and then returned to Summerville, while I took the train to

Nashville. His story about the murder, was, doubtless, a hoax, or he

would have gone on with me to La Grange.

Nashville was the only civil place I had been in yet; and there was less

of bitterness than I had seen elsewhere.

At this place I was met by my father, to whom I had written, requesting

him to meet me there. His journey was made at the imminent risk of

arrest and incarceration in prison; but fortunately he had a commission

from Governor Magoffin, of Kentucky, on which he got through. As king

Isham G. Harris remarked:

"Col. P----, that is a better pass than I can give you;" and I believed

him when he said it, for at that time Gov. Magoffin's name would pass a

man in either section, and Harris' would not.

In due time we arrived at Portsmouth, Ohio, where my father was

publishing a paper at that time; and the reader may imagine my joy at

again meeting my mother and sister in a land of freedom; though my joy

was marred by the fact that my youngest brother was lying at the point

of death. Three weeks after I returned, he expired, dying a christian's

death, full of hope in eternal life.

_CHAPTER XV._

IN THE UNION SERVICE--THE KENTUCKY CAMPAIGN.

I had intended on arriving at home to enlist in the Union army, and

under the old starry banner at once, but deferred the matter on account

of my brother's sickness; but within a few days after his death I

enlisted at Portsmouth to join Fremont's body guard, but eventually went

into the 4th Ohio Cavalry, commanded by Colonel John Kennett. I was

sworn into the service by Lieutenant S. K. Williams, and was sworn into

the 4th Cavalry again by Captain O. P. Robie, of Company A, at

Cincinnati, and on the 16th of September, 1861, found myself at Camp

Gurley, undergoing lessons in the intricacies of the cavalry drill under

Sergeant Charles D. Henry, of Company A.

We drew horses soon after I arrived in camp, and after a few weeks of

preparation in tactics and the usual amount of soldier pranks in the

neighborhood, we moved to Camp Dennison, when on the 20th day of

November we were finally mustered into the service. We remained at Camp

Dennison till the latter part of winter, or the first of spring, when we

were ordered into Kentucky. I was exceedingly sick of the idleness of

camp life, and hailed marching orders with delight, as did all the boys,

who, like myself, delighted in a roving life.

I do not recollect the day of the month on which we left Ohio, but we at

once proceeded to Louisville, stopping a brief period at Camp Kennett,

near Jeffersonville, and in due course of time found ourselves on the

mudbound shores of Bacon creek. This historic stream derives its name

from a circumstance connected with the early settlement of Kentucky; a

lot of hunters having encamped upon it to bacon their bear meat. This

fact I learned from the "oldest inhabitant," and considering the

circumstances and the customs of pioneers, I have no doubt of its

correctness.

At this time we were under command of General O. M. Mitchell, and it is

perhaps unnecessary here to add that men under so energetic a commander

were never idle. We scouted the country thoroughly in every direction,

but did not meet the enemy at any point willing to give us battle, and

hence we had no fighting in Kentucky. During our trip down Green river,

we all suffered severely from cold and exposure, but the rebels always

retired before us; and perhaps they were right.

On leaving Bacon creek, we marched on Bowling Green, General Mitchell

being, as was usual with him, in great haste to follow up the flying

enemy; and such was his energy, and so well appointed was everything in

his army, that the obstructions in the roads, upon which the rebels had

wasted so much labor, scarcely formed an impediment to his march. He had

a regiment of pioneers from Michigan who were the best working men I

ever saw, and they cleared the way for the advance with a rapidity

almost unparalleled.

The army advanced on Bowling Green while the detachment I was with was

on a scout down Green river; and on coming in, Captain Robie and myself

galloped our horses all the way from Mumfordsville to Bowling Green, a

distance of thirty-four miles. About a mile from Mumfordsville we found,

by the side of the railroad, the corpse of a boy belong to General

Sill's old regiment; he had died at a hospital near by, and the steward

had sent three other sick men to carry the body to Mumfordsville, and

they had sunk exhausted by the road. A train which had been out in that

direction refused to take the body on for the men, and while I was

looking at the corpse the same engine came back, and when it stopped I

called the conductor, but he refused with an oath to take the body on

the train, saying he had enough live men on. This enraged me

considerably, and I drew a pistol on him, which had a very decided

effect indeed, and he helped to put the corpse on the train. He,

however, threatened to report me for stopping him, but at that moment

Captain Robie came up, and the fellow found it convenient to have

nothing more to say. I suppose he delivered the corpse in Mumfordsville,

but he was mean enough to throw it off the train. The boy was a fine

looking youth--sixteen years of age, and the sight of it and of the

exhausted, sorrow-stricken soldiers, would have melted any but a heart

of stone.

We arrived at Bowling Green just as Captain Loomis, of the Coldwater

Battery, from Michigan, was shelling the Johnnies out of the place. At

the instant I rode up to the river bank, I espied General Mitchell with

his hat off, calling for volunteers--I did not know for what--but I

volunteered, when I discovered that it was to carry a rope over Big

Barren river, in order to enable him to swing a pontoon over the stream.

Sergeant Frank Robie, another soldier and myself, mounted a little raft

made of plank, on which we put a coil of rope, and then we pushed out,

paying out the coil as we went. The raft was a small, frail structure,

and the current setting against the rope made it swing up and down, so

that we were frequently in the water up to our knees, and as the river

ran very swiftly, the reader may very well imagine that we had a

dangerous ride of it, to say nothing about the bullets of the rebels,

from the opposite shore--about twenty of which were fired at us while we

were engaged in the work, though luckily none of them took effect; but

our infantry firing soon made the reprobates "light out" from their

position.

Captain Loomis knocked the stack off the locomotive just as the train

loaded with rebel soldiers was about to start out, and they barely had

time to save themselves as we entered the town.

We finally got a rope over, through the protection afforded us by our

infantry, and by the assistance of Lieutenant Shoemaker, of the Fourth

Cavalry, Captain Yates, of the engineers, began throwing in his

pontoons. The bridge would soon have been completed; but, at this point,

General Mitchell rode up, and told us we could all go to bed now, as

some of the men had found a ferry boat two miles below, which was

capable of conveying two hundred men, and that that would be sufficient

to accomplish his purpose.

Part of the 19th Illinois and 18th Ohio infantry were double-quicked

down the river, at once, to the boat, and crossed over, and then

double-quicked up again, on the opposite side of the stream to the town,

in time to drive out the rear guard of the rebels--some five hundred in

number, who were busily engaged in destroying the place.

On the first night after our arrival at Bowling Green, an attempt was

made to fire the stables where our horses were, with a view to the

destruction of the animals; but Providence favored us, and the wind

suddenly changed, and the flames did not communicate to the buildings.

Had they done so, our stock would have certainly perished in the flames,

as we could not have released the horses in time. Seven large brick

buildings were destroyed, and some frames were burned, between the

stables and the public square. These were the first ones fired, and the

incendiaries believed the flames would reach the stables, and destroy

both horses and equipments; but their purposes were foiled, by the

shifting of the wind.

On the following morning, detachments of our cavalry scoured the country

in every direction, capturing a great many rebels, who were destroying

property and pillaging houses, passing themselves off as federal

soldiers. It was a common game and one easily played, amid the panic and

excitement that followed the fall of Bowling Green; the people having

been made to believe there was no crime too vile for the "Northern

vandals." But the cavalry soon came over, and the citizens could readily

discover the difference, and they began, at once, to inform us where

these rebel depredators were to be found.

Seven hundred rebels were reported in the vicinity of Russelville, while

yet others were prowling around in the county, and Lieutenant Harris

with a small detachment was sent out to destroy the railroad, of which

party I was one. We went to South Union, in Logan county, where I was

sent out with seven men a short distance below, to stand picket. While

on duty, a very remarkable looking man rode up to me and said:

"I am told you have come here to protect citizens in their lives and

property."

"Yes," I replied, "that is our purpose."

"Well," he continued, "my name is Ray; I am a physician, and I own an

interest in a large steam mill, five miles further down in the country,

and it is to be burned to-night by the Texas Rangers; twenty-five of

whom were detailed to burn it, and several others in the county. Can you

do anything to save it?"

"Yes, sir," was my response, "get my men some supper, while I go back

and see my commanding officer."

I went to see the Lieutenant, back at the town, while Dr. Ray was

preparing supper for the squad. The Lieutenant at once gave me

permission to go to the mill, if I desired to do so; and, after reaching

the picket post, the Doctor came with the provisions, and I told him I

was ready. We started immediately for the town of Auburn, where the mill

was located; when the Doctor looked anxiously around, and asked:

"Where are your men?"

I told him I did not need any soldiers, but would call on the citizens

for help, and inquired how many could be relied on in an emergency, and

he said about twenty; and I told him that was enough provided I could

get them out. When we reached the mill, we succeeded in raising but half

a dozen men, including the miller and his employees. I then told the

Doctor that he must go into the mill and pile all the empty barrels up

as high as he could reach, so that when one pile is pushed over, the

whole lot would tumble down with it, and make a great racket. "Then," I

said, "I will fire off my gun, and then you knock the empty barrels

about, and shout: 'Turn out the guard;' and 'Fall in, men,' and we will

make as much noise as if there was an hundred of us," after which I went

into the coopershop to instruct the men. There were several good places

for protection in the shop, from which they were to fire on any

advancing party, after I had discharged the signal gun; and to all my

arrangements the party agreed. The miller then went to his house and

brought down hot biscuits, fresh butter, sweet milk and eggs, for a

lunch, which we greedily consumed; after which two of the party went out

to patrol the vicinity. We kept turn now guarding till about eleven

o'clock at night, when one of the men came running in, almost breathless

with excitement, saying, that they were coming from down the road.

I stationed the men to my notion, and began to walk a beat before the

mill, taking good care to make sufficient noise with my saber, resolved

to attract attention. Very soon a small party of horsemen came at a

gallop toward us; and when they were within gunshot, I shouted "halt,"

and immediately fired on them. The effect was magical. The rebels

wheeled in confusion, running for their lives; while my men fired upon

them as fast as they could, and the old doctor thundered the barrels

about, and yelled like a madman.

The enemy were ignominiously defeated--put to flight. The doctor jumped

and capered with joy, to see the effect of our strategy; it even seemed

to make him young again. As soon as the excitement was over, we reloaded

our pieces, piled up our barrels, and waited for a second attack, as we

felt certain they would not give it up that way; but notwithstanding our

expectations they did, and we were not disturbed by that party.

However, just after midnight another party advanced upon us, and we

again stood on the defensive; but no sooner did I challenge the

advancing men, than I recognized the voice of Major Dreisbach, of the

4th Ohio Cavalry, and among the men was Captain Robie, of Company A; and

we were not obliged to renew either our firing or our strategy.

From this place I was sent to Russelville, to ascertain the strength of

the force there, and such other particulars as would be of advantage to

the service. I rode rapidly, in order to get in the town at night, and

out again before daylight, so that I might obtain and communicate the

desired information, before he came near enough to engage the enemy.

They were represented at seven hundred strong; while the Major's command

only numbered one hundred men. I succeeded in getting into the town, and

rousing some of the inhabitants, represented myself as a confederate

quartermaster, and asked them to tell me where the Texas Rangers were,

and inquired about Col. Wharton and other rebel officers, with the air

of an old acquaintance. They informed me that the regiment had left town

about an hour before; but if I would hurry on, I would overtake them at

Whippoorwill Station; and that they intended to burn the bridge at that

place, and would be delayed a short time. I next inquired about the

government property there; and one man went to show me the different

stores of flour and other provisions, of which there was an immense

quantity in town; after which I went to Grey's tavern and ordered

breakfast for a hundred Texan Rangers, telling him to have it ready for

us just at daylight, which he promised to do, and I rode off to our

command.

[Illustration: "The sergeant of the guard, without a word, ran at him,

seized him by the arms, and clasping both of them down to his sides,

stooped under him, and threw him clear across the railroad track."--Page

247.]

All this was done so quickly and coolly, that the citizens were not

alarmed, and we even captured some of Wharton's men who were sleeping in

town, at various houses; while the amount of stores which fell into our

hands, was immense.

The landlord had taken me at my word, and we had a splendid breakfast,

which had been prepared for the Rangers, who, alas, for my veracity,

turned out to be real blue-coated Yankees. However, we devoured our meal

with as much relish, and as great an amount of enjoyment, as if we had

come from the banks of the Rio Grande, and ridden all the way to

Russelville in a day. To tell the truth, we were fearfully hungry, and

did as hungry men do.

Circumstances were such that the troops were soon recalled from the

town, and they evacuated it, while I was down on the Tennessee line,

whither I had been sent on another scout, by the Major. When I returned,

I found myself alone, and twenty-seven miles from our lines. On passing

through, I discovered that the people had commenced to carry off the

public stores; and I at once ordered them to stop, telling them if they

did not, I would bring a company of men and lay the town in ashes; and

my threat had the desired effect. At the depot I found another gang

rolling out the flour, and hauling it off in wagons, and I gave them the

same warning, but they did not yield so readily. They asked me if I

possessed the authority to make the order, and if I was a commissioned

officer, etc. This fretted me a little, and drawing my pistol, I rode in

among them, and made them roll every barrel back into the depot again;

and then shutting and barring the doors, I told them I would kill the

next man I found near the place.

While I was down at Allensville, I met a two-horse carriage, in which

were four old men and one young man, who seemed to be about twenty-five

years of age. Entering into a conversation with them, I soon discovered

that the old men were Union men, and that they had got stuck on some

confederate money, and that they were going to Nashville to dispose of

it for Kentucky State notes; but the young man, as if trying to draw my

sentiments from me, expressed himself in the bitterest terms as a rebel.

While the conversation was going on, one of the old gentlemen produced a

flask of whisky, and passed it first to the other three, and then to me;

asking at the same time, if I ever drank. I told them that I seldom

drank anything stronger than brandy, and "laid hold." Raising the flask,

I said, gentlemen, let us drink to the Constitution and the Union; when

the old men shouted "hurrah for the Constitution and the Union," The

young man, however, put his head out and fairly yelled: "No, sir, I'm a

rebel; I won't drink any such sentiment; I will die first." My first

impulse was to thrust my pistol in his face and blow his brains out; but

he was unarmed and I would not shoot a defenseless man.

I was alone, and could not be bothered with prisoners; but I was fully

determined to punish him in some way. Without answering his vehement

expostulation, I turned up the flask and drank very leisurely, without

the least show of anger, and then riding close to the carriage, I took

the flask in my left hand, and passed it to the young villain, and

drawing my pistol with my right, I deliberately leveled it on his

breast, and said calmly: "Now, sir, you will drink or die;" and I meant

it, for that was the only chance I intended to give him for his life. He

seized the flask with trembling hand, his face pale with fright, and, in

spite of his recent boasting refusal, he drank until I got afraid I

would make him kill himself with whisky, and told him he could stop;

that I did not want him to drown himself with Bourbon. Then giving him a

few words of counsel, I allowed them all to proceed on their journey,

and I turned my attention to the depot, which was surrounded by a

villainous looking crowd of disappointed rebels, who had probably met to

counsel over the evacuation of Kentucky and their own fate.

There were seven hundred barrels of corn at Auburn, three hundred

barrels at Russellville, seven hundred at McCloud's switch, one hundred

barrels at Whippoorwill, and as much more at Allensville; and at all of

these places there were considerable quantities of wheat, and at

Russellville there were stores of mess beef, pork, flour, and arms. I

felt that all these things should not be left without a guard, and I

well knew we had no men to spare, so I put each depot, and all the

stores in the vicinity, in charge of the nearest wealthy citizen,

telling him I would hold him responsible for the safety of the buildings

and their contents; and that if a dollar's worth was lost or destroyed,

he would be compelled to make compensation.

After this, I returned to Bowling Green, and reported my proceedings to

Colonel Stanley, who was post commandant there. He approved my

proceedings, and directed me to hold the things, till he could send down

a guard, which I did, riding from one end to the other of my beat every

day--a distance of thirty-two miles.

As soon as our forces had repaired the railroad, they began to remove

all the stores to Bowling Green, and I was relieved from guard duty, and

returned to South Union, on my way to Bowling Green. Here I was taken

sick, with something bordering on pneumonia, and I was compelled to stop

at the house of the agent of the Shakers, a venerable man, named

Shannon. The women of the society took me into the house, and prepared

a bed for me, and nursed me with the greatest care, until I was well

enough to travel again. I was walking about in three or four days, and

at that time a justice of the peace, named Carson, from Butler county,

came to see me, telling me of two men, named Robinson and Keaton,

terrors to his neighborhood, who were constantly committing

depredations. They claimed to be Union soldiers; but my informant stated

that they robbed all they came to, regardless of their political

sentiments.

All I could do in this matter, was to arrest the men, and take them to

Bowling Green; and it was sixteen miles from where I was, to the place

where the depredations were committed. I started, however, for the scene

of the troubles, and on my way I met a man named Mobly, and another

named Gines, who were known guerrillas, and who had done much mischief

in the country. I told them I was informed that they were good, law

abiding citizens, and I wished them to join me, and help me arrest a

couple of men, who were "raising Cain" down below.

At first they objected, and did not at all like to go. One made an

excuse that his wife was sick, and had no wood chopped; and he must

hurry home and cut some; while the other (I believe it was Mobly), said

that he was necessarily compelled to go to mill, otherwise his family

"had obleeged to suffer."

"Where do you live?" I asked; and they pointed in the direction, which,

as I suspected, was exactly contrary to the one they were riding. My

suspicions were well-founded; they were just then going somewhere to

plot, or execute mischief; they were mounted on extraordinarily fine

horses, and appeared like very resolute men. I remarked that from the

direction they were traveling, I did not think they were going to attend

to domestic affairs; and added: "I am a United States officer, and you

can not refuse to assist me." Seeing that no excuse would avail, they

went along; but I made it a point to put them in the road in front of

me, so I could watch them. When I named the men I intended to arrest,

they were greatly relieved; they were rejoiced at getting rid of two

such men, as the ones referred to, who were their bitter enemies.

They even threw off all appearance of reluctance, and went with me

willingly. Passing through the little town, I had another man pointed

out to me as one who had been in the Woodbury fight only a short time

before, and had come recently from the rebel army; and hailing him,

without arousing his suspicion that I knew anything of his antecedents,

I told him the same that I had told the others. He tried to beg off,

pleading a sick wife; but I informed him I could not possibly excuse

him; for if I excused him I must do the same for the others, as they had

made a similar request. I stated that he had been recommended to me as a

very proper man for the work; that he was anxious to restore law and

order, and I could, under no circumstances, dispense with his services.

He then invited me to dine with him, while his boy caught his horse,

which I readily consented to do. We then mounted and rode in the

direction of Kitchen's still-house, where the parties were supposed to

be. There had just been a religious meeting in the neighborhood of the

still-house, and a large number of men--good Union men, too--had

gathered around to drink whisky, and talk politics; and among the number

were Keaton and Robinson. I gave my rifle to Porter while I arrested

Robinson, leaving Porter to guard the prisoner while I took Keaton into

custody. I then gave their arms to my citizen guards, and we mounted

them on their horses, and made for Bowling Green, followed by threats

and execrations of Union men, who did not know their real character. The

last thing I heard was the voice of the old man Kitchen, who shouted

that he had forty men and thirty muskets, and he would have the men away

from me before we got five miles, adding: "The secesh are having a good

time, to-day, arresting Union men with federal soldiers;" but he did not

know the joke I had in store for the secesh. The next day I reached

Bowling Green, after traveling nearly all night, with my prisoners, who

were turned over to Col. Stanley, at the same time preferring charges

against each.

I only claimed to have captured five prisoners; but Col. Stanley (of the

18th Ohio) tells the story differently. I had barely got my prisoners

delivered to the Colonel, when the old man Kitchen, who really was a

good Unionist, got to Bowling Green with about forty men, and demanded

to know why Keaton and Robinson had been arrested. The Colonel answered

him politely, and was about to dismiss him and his squad, when a

well-known Union man identified three bushwhackers in the party, and the

Colonel, who had an aversion for that class of men, ordered them all to

be arrested and sent to jail. I do not know what ever became of the

party, but Col. Stanley always told the story that I had brought him

eight prisoners single-handed.

While at Shaker Town I wrote out the following advertisement for T. J.

Shannon and other loyal citizens:

=6 1-4 CENTS REWARD!=

"Ran away from the town of Bowling Green, in Warren county,

Kentucky, one George W. Johnson, who claimed to be Provisional

Governor of Kentucky. No inquiry would have been made

concerning his whereabouts, but for the fact that he had

notified the people of Kentucky that they must pay their taxes

to him, for the benefit of the so-styled Confederate States of

America; and whereas, the people of Kentucky, and Logan county

in particular, are law-abiding citizens, and desire earnestly

to pay their taxes promptly, and the said George W. Johnson and

his ten legal advisers having absconded, and the sheriff

appointed by said "legal advisers" being afraid to act, the

citizens of Logan county will pay the above reward for his

apprehension; but no thanks for his return. The person claiming

the reward is to change a $20 Confederate States note at its

face."

"_Feb._ 22, 1862." "MANY CITIZENS."

The advertisement was duly posted in three conspicuous places, but the

money was never claimed. Johnson was afterward arrested, as I learn, but

the captor never asked the reward. Death overtook him at Shiloh.

At the same place, I captured a rebel soldier, named Blewitt, and took

him before Esquire Holland, where he took the oath of allegiance. We had

no form of that oath before us, but the 'squire fixed up one strong

enough, and he was about to administer it when a venerable old Shaker

said:

"Friend James, thee had better swear him not to break open any more

beehives;" and he insisted on a clause to that effect being inserted.

The oath, however, was strong enough, when we were through with it.

I now started out in search of my regiment, which, by this time, had

nearly reached Nashville. Going by way of Russellville, I got a comrade,

who had been wounded when we charged the town. He was an Italian, named

Garanchini. I had left him in care of parties at Russellville, and now

that he was able to travel, I took him with me, proceeding by way of

Springfield. We had no trouble in getting through the country, although

we were the first Federals who had appeared in that section of the

State.

We found the regiment at Camp Jackson, seven miles south of Nashville,

which point we made a base for a great number of scouting adventures, in

every section of the country, as we lay there for a considerable length

of time.

I was very proud to learn that the 4th Ohio Cavalry had captured the

city of Nashville, and that members of that regiment should be the first

Federal soldiers to tread the streets of this stronghold of secession.

Had "King" Harris known, at the time I applied to him for a pass, in

company with my father, that I would become a member of the regiment

which demanded and received the surrender of his capital, it is

altogether probable that the petty monarch would have held me to a more

strict accountability. As there was a misunderstanding soon after as to

what troops captured the city, and not wishing to see my comrades robbed

of their hard-earned glory, I beg leave to present the following, which

is to the point, and, I think, will exhibit the affair in its proper

light to every impartial reader:

COPY OF H. C. RODGERS' LETTER TO J. KENNETT.

COLONEL JNO. KENNETT:

_Dear Sir_,--According to my recollection, the Second Division

commanded by Brig. Gen. Mitchell, advanced upon Nashville from

Bowling Green, in the latter part of the month of February,

1862. On this march, the advance was led by the 4th O. V. C.,

Col. John Kennett commanding. On, or about the 25th, the

regiment marched to, and occupied, Edgefield Junction, some

eight or ten miles from Nashville. From this place, Col.

Kennett immediately ordered forward a detachment of the 4th O.

V. C., under my command, with instructions to occupy the

village of Edgefield, opposite the city of Nashville, to take

possession of all steamboats, or other native craft lying

there, and to hold the position. These orders were fully

executed--the detachment finding no enemy in Edgefield--a few

straggling cavalry in Nashville--my command occupied Edgefield,

two days before the command of Gen. Nelson arrived; during

which time the Mayor of Nashville twice came over to Edgefield,

for the purpose of surrendering the city: on his second visit,

the city was surrendered. The mayor, Cheatham, tendering, and

Col. Kennett receiving, the surrender. This took place at the

residence of Mr. Fuller, in Edgefield. Mr. Fuller, myself and

some others, whom I do not remember, were present. This

occurrence took place the day before Gen. Nelson's command

arrived.

The battery of Capt. Loomis, at the time of this surrender,

occupied a position commanding, and within pistol shot of, the

heart of the city. The 4th O. V. C. could have occupied the

city of Nashville at any time after the occupation of

Edgefield, had their instructions permitted it; in fact, a

small squad did cross over to the city and back again, on the

ferry-boat we had captured.

Mayor Cheatham was anxious to surrender the city, through fear

we might shell it, and, in surrendering, he agreed to protect

the public property until it was delivered to the United

States' officers.

Capt. Loomis' battery was under the direction, at this time, of

Col. Kennett.

Generals Buell and Mitchell both, certainly, must have known of

the surrender of Nashville before the arrival of Gen. Nelson.

I, myself, brought to them the news of Nelson's arrival, two

days after Edgefield was occupied by us.

Yours, truly,

[Signed.] H. C. RODGERS,

Major 4th O. V. C.

_CHAPTER XVI._

AFTER JOHN MORGAN.

The celebrated John H. Morgan was then in our front, doing his best to

achieve _notoriety_, which he afterward succeeded in doing. To keep him

in his place caused us much inconvenience; indeed, he was troublesome,

and Gen. Mitchell resolved to drive him out of the country, if he could

not catch or kill him. But before being successful, it became necessary

to know exactly where to find him, and just how many men he had. The

General told me what he wanted, and asked me if I would go down the

country and hunt him up, and I replied that I would. He then gave orders

that I should be fitted out to my own notion, and Captain Prentice, the

Assistant Adjutant General, furnished me with a citizen's dress, and the

General gave me his own saddle pony to ride, as it was the only

unbranded horse in the camp.

Thus equipped, I put out from our lines in the night, and took the road

to Murfreesboro. I had a lonely ride till morning, when I stopped at a

house on Stewart's creek, to get breakfast; and there I fell in with a

man who stated that he was going to Murfreesboro, and proposed to ride

with me; and, of course, I was glad of his company. From the familiar

way he spoke of Hardee, and other southern officers, I felt satisfied he

was a rebel scout, and had just been to Nashville. He was a large,

well-built man, with homely features, but expressive of a good deal of

cunning. He was very bitter against the Yankees, in his conversation,

and could tell me more meanness they had done, than I ever before

thought they could devise. All this I stored away, as "stock in trade,"

to be reproduced to the Johnnies themselves, when occasion should

require me to abuse my friends.

We crossed Stewart's and Overall's creeks, when we met with the first

rebel pickets, standing in a field some distance away. As we approached

they stepped up to know our business, where we were from, where we were

going, etc. My companion was in a hurry to proceed, but I desired to

converse with the pickets to get whatever information I could from them.

They were as loquacious as I was, and had much to say about a fight they

had been in a few days before, with the 4th Ohio cavalry, magnifying

their own exploits hugely. They represented the 4th Ohio as little

better than arrant cowards, which worried me a good deal, but I must

keep up my disguise. Little did they imagine that they were then

speaking with a member of that very regiment; and less did they suspect

that my fingers were aching to shoot them. If the General had not given

me such very strict orders, I believe I should have stopped right there

and given them a fight. But a severer trial than that, even, was in

store. One of the reprobates walked up to me, and with a flourish and an

oath, handed me a pistol, saying it had been taken from the 4th Ohio

cavalry the day before, and that Captain Morgan had come in, at the same

time, with eight buckled around him. I examined the weapon, and although

it looked very familiar, I handed it back, and told him I had never seen

one like it before.

Next my curiosity was excited by their guns; I represented that I had

never seen any like them, and innocently wondered if the Yankees had any

of the same pattern.

"No," said the man, "these are English guns;" and there, sure enough, on

the lock was the crown and the words "Tower, London," stamped on the

metal. There were but three men at the post, and when the fellow gave me

his pistol, their guns were in a corner of the fence and they at some

distance from them, so that I could have shot all three before they

could have helped themselves.

No passes were required from men going south, but no one could travel

north, without a pass from Hardee. On arriving at Murfreesboro, I found

it was guarded by Morgan's battalion of cavalry, and three companies of

Texas rangers. Now, I had not the least idea of staying at the place,

but had intended to ride through; and was proceeding along steadily,

but carelessly, on the lower side of the public square, when I was

hailed by a former acquaintance on the sidewalk. He was an old friend,

and had served with me in Johnston's regiment, in Texas. I had intended

to pass under the name of George Adams, but up to this time had never

been questioned as to who I was; and it was very fortunate, as otherwise

I should have been detected on the spot.

While talking with this man, a crowd soon assembled around me, to

inquire the news from Kentucky, and wanting to know how I had possibly

managed to get through the Yankee lines, and a hundred other such

questions. I told them I had crossed the Tennessee sixteen miles below

Nashville, at the mouth of Pond creek, and hence did not come through

the lines at all, but flanked them, coming down Richland creek, and

crossing the Charlotte pike at Davidson's. I had been at home on a

visit, I said, and was going back to Texas. When asked where I lived, I

told them in Bourbon county, Kentucky; and when further questioned as to

my motive for returning to Texas, I told them I had been making that

State my home for years; and there was my Texan friend by whom to prove

it.

As soon as I could do so, I turned to the ranger and asked him so many

questions, that he had no time to interrogate me. While I was standing

in the crowd, asking and answering questions by turn, a very fine

looking man dressed in a plain black suit of clothes, walked leisurely

up, and stood listening to the conversation. He at length addressed me

in a mild but deep and manly voice, and inquired if I was from near

Lexington. I told him that I was, and he asked the news from that

locality, and I was giving him the "local items" in detail, when an

officer stepped up to him and addressing him as Captain Morgan, called

him away on business.

Well, for a little while the top of my head got cold, and the blood all

rushed to my heart; but I do not think my emotions were betrayed in my

face, for, in an instant, the danger of my position occurred to me in

full force, and I resumed my devil-may-care manner, but surveyed him

closely as he walked off. He was a man about five feet ten or eleven

inches in hight, fair complexion, rather red cheeks, round, manly

features, with a light blue or gray eye, fiery red goattee of full

dimensions, and a little coarse, light-brown hair, slightly inclined to

red, which was closely cut. His appearance was genteel, and his manners

very prepossessing. He appeared to be a general favorite, as all eyes

appeared to follow him, as he walked along with his fellow officers;

and, perhaps, this was the reason that my very close investigation of

him passed unnoticed by the men around me. I could not help feeling a

little proud that I would now be able to report to Gen. Mitchell that I

had seen the very man he had sent me out to find.

After Morgan had left, my Texas friend remarked that there were a great

many Lexington boys in Morgan's battalion. I then asked him if there

were any in town.

"Well, no," he said; then turning to a man at his side he asked:

"Is Jim B---- in town?"

"No," was the reply, to my great relief; "he is out on picket; we are

looking for him in every minute."

This Jim. B---- was born at Leesburg, the place of my nativity, and

could have identified me as an Ohio man. Without, however, appearing to

be disconcerted, I expressed my regret that I was not able to wait and

see him. Then turning the conversation, by asking if there were any

Bourbon "boys" in the command, I pretty soon found it convenient to

excuse myself without cultivating any further acquaintance. My companion

was now ready to go, and coming up, mounted his horse and we rode for

Shelbyville.

About five miles from town, I became sick--very sick; growing worse so

rapidly that I was compelled to stop at a house. I was well aware that

my companion was extremely anxious to reach Shelbyville that night; and,

as for myself, I didn't want to get there at all. Stating my demoralized

physical condition to him, I told him I was sorry we must part, but I

must stop; so pulling up to a house by the roadside, I bade him

"good-bye."

The "man of the house," whose name was Bidford, invited me in, and put

up my horse. I had now cleared myself of my companion, and, therefore,

recovered very rapidly. It was about five o'clock in the evening when I

stopped, and shortly after, supper was ready, and I did it ample

justice; and then, as soon as it was dark, I retired to bed. A great

number of rebels were traveling along the road, and several of them

stopped at Bidford's house for water and to have their horses fed.

During the night I was there, an officer, with considerable of an

escort, came in, and as there was but a thin partition separating the

rooms occupied by us, I could hear every word he said. His name was

Wood, and he was lieutenant colonel of the 1st Louisiana cavalry, and

was on his way to Murfreesboro with orders for Captain Morgan, and to

Nashville with dispatches to Gen. Buell. He talked a great deal, and

seemed to be on very intimate terms with my landlord.

Next morning I left early, taking the road to Shelbyville till I got out

of sight of the house, when I took the first road that turned off, and

started on my return to our own camp. At one point on the Las Casas

road, I saw a detachment of Morgan's men coming down the road toward me.

To be caught trying to go north would cause my arrest, if no other

reason existed for it; so I turned into a lane, and quickened my gait.

They pursued, and it was a tight race for about a mile, when I dodged

them in a dense cedar brake; but I was driven a long way from my course.

After wandering about for a good while, I rode up to a house, and was

asking the woman about the way to Las Casas, when I heard a horse coming

at a swift trot behind me, and turning in my saddle, lo! there was one

of Morgan's men coming toward me, entirely without suspicion.

Turning to him, I remarked that I was glad to see him; that I wanted

directions how to go to Brown's mill. I knew the way beyond that well

enough, and had no necessity for inquiry farther. When he asked me where

I was going, after exacting secrecy from him, which he readily promised,

I told him that I was a Texas Ranger; that I had put on a citizen's suit

to favor my plan; that I wanted to get into the country, as near to the

Yankee lines as possible, in order to ascertain what had become of a

very dear friend of mine, who had been missing since the day of our last

fight with the 4th Ohio cavalry.

"I want to find out," said I, "what has become of him, so that I can

send word to his people, and advise them of his fate."

"Who is your friend?" he inquired.

"Well," I said, "his name is Corniel Warfield; he is an old friend of

mine, and I will risk my life to find out what has become of him."

"Corniel Warfield," he repeated slowly, and with surprise; he belongs to

my company. "Certainly I will do all I can to assist you, sir; he is a

special friend of mine; I will go with you a mile or so, and put you in

the right road to the mill; but you must not let the Yankees catch you."

"No, indeed," I said, "I will be sharp enough for that."

The fellow actually went a mile and a half with me, and put me on the

road I sought, when he parted with me, wishing me every success.

Thanking him, I "shook my pony up" with the spurs, and was soon out of

sight, on the direct route to Nashville.

I had nursed this same Warfield, in our regimental hospital, the night

after the fight; and knew very well where he was at the time.

I had only one more ugly place to pass, and that was La Vergne. I had

heard a ranger say, in Murfreesboro, that a party of them would be in

La Vergne, that night, so that I knew I must be on my guard, when I

approached the town. I rode at the side of the turnpike, on soft ground,

and as it was after night, I passed unnoticed, until my horse's feet

struck the plank which formed the crossing at the railroad, when almost

instantly I heard the sound of some horses running down from a grove

some distance to the left of the road. I "shook" pony again with the

spurs, and away we went. Looking back, now, I saw the rebels wheel into

the road after me. I waited to see no more, but struck out for our

picket post, as hard as my horse could gallop. The Johnnies did not

follow me more than two miles before they began to be afraid of running

on our pickets; and I, too, had my fears; there was danger that our own

men would fire on me unless I checked up in time; but luckily, I was

recognized when I came in sight, and the boys of course did not shoot.

_CHAPTER XVII._

RECONNOITERING MIDDLE TENNESSEE--SCOUTING AS CAPTAIN BONHAM OF THE FIRST

LOUISIANA CAVALRY.

I was soon at the General's quarters, and waked him out of a sound

nap--the only time I ever found him asleep, though I have visited his

quarters at all hours of the day and night. He was pleased with what I

had done, and sent me away for a little rest and sleep, previous to

starting out again.

In a few hours we started out with a detachment of cavalry and some

infantry, among which was the 10th Ohio, mounted in wagons; and I have

no doubt but we should have caught John right there, and thus addled the

embryo general in the shell, but, as luck would have it, we met Colonel

Wood, with the dispatches from Hardee to Buell, with Morgan, and about

thirty picked men, as an escort. We halted, and then returned and

delivered the dispatches to General Mitchell, who was not at all

gratified at our meeting, as the Johnnies would know at once that we

were meditating an attack on them.

While Colonel Wood and the General were talking, one of Morgan's men

broke from the rear and started back to Murfreesboro, at his best

speed; but anticipating something of that kind, Colonel Kennett had

quietly sent a few men down the road, in the rear of the rebels, one of

whom caught the Johnnie and brought him back to our camp. Morgan and

Wood were astounded at the man's conduct; and General Mitchell was in a

rage at the man's treachery, and held the officers responsible for it.

He now had an excellent opportunity to keep the whole party as prisoners

of war, and he submitted the subject to General Buell, who overruled

him, and Morgan was allowed to return to his command, and he

"skedaddled" without delay, and subsequently caused us much anxiety of

mind, and many hard marches.

[Illustration: "There was no time to lose, for already I could hear my

pursuers clattering over the rocks above me, and once I heard a sabre

jingle; therefore, running to this tree, I looked over the giddy hight,

then slung my rifle across my back, and leaped out headforemost with all

my strength."--=Page 281.=]

Soon after this, Captain Robie was sent with Company A, of the 4th Ohio

Cavalry, to McMinnville, on a scout, and I was one of the party. The

remainder of the regiment went to Tullahoma, and other parts, and we

were to concentrate at that place. At McMinnville, we heard of some

commands of rebels in our immediate vicinity, any one of which was

superior to us in number. I had not started from camp with the Captain,

but coming in with a small body of scouts, who had been detailed by

Colonel Kennett, to serve with me, I was told to push on and overtake

him as speedily as possible. He had passed through McMinnville several

hours before I got there; and while I was ascertaining which road he had

taken, I was warned of the near approach of a party of rebels, by

several persons--some of doubtful loyalty. I replied that we were

fighting men and that we would be glad to meet Captain Bledsoe and

Captain McHenry, and their commands, and give them battle. "We shall be

camped on this road a short distance out," said I, "and you will confer

a favor on us, to send these men word to that effect."

This they promised to do, telling me that Bledsoe had three hundred men,

McHenry two hundred, and another man, whom they named, one hundred; and

that the farthest command away was but five miles. Charging them again

to be sure and send the rebels out, we took the road to Manchester, and,

after dark, overtook the company in camp, when I told the captain about

the rebels and the challenge I had sent them, and he approved it, and

immediately put his camp in order for defense.

I was sent a quarter of a mile to the rear, with my party, to barricade

the road, and hold it till the enemy made a demonstration. During the

latter part of the night they approached us cautiously from the rear,

but did not attack us, nor show themselves in any formidable numbers,

but moved around and got on the Manchester road ahead of us, and charged

down on the camp. But the captain had so disposed his men that they gave

the assailants two sweeping volleys in their flanks as they approached;

and perfectly astounded, they broke and fled, pell mell, back in the way

they came. One of their men, a lieutenant, tumbled headlong into our

camp. We afterward ascertained that the rebel loss was eight killed and

thirteen wounded; but this only came to our knowledge some time

afterward. Captain Robie only reported one of them being left dead on

the field, and his own loss nothing. We were unmolested after that, and

reached Tullahoma in time to join the regiment.

The Colonel had been at Manchester, and destroyed the powder mill there,

and had driven a number of little squads of the enemy out of the

country; and having consolidated his command, we moved in the direction

of Murfreesboro, where our army then was, going by the way of

Shelbyville.

Murfreesboro was taken by a detachment of the 4th Ohio Cavalry under

Lieut. Col. Henry Burdsal.

While the 3d division lay at Murfreesboro, Gen. Mitchell sent me out on

a long scout to inspect all the roads leading to Shelbyville, and all

the bridges over the river within five miles of the town, either above

or below it. The reader will at once understand that this was a very

long and dangerous task, as the roads were all picketed by the Texas

Rangers and Morgan's battalion, and small squads of them were scouring

the country, day and night, in every direction. To the right of the

turnpike a couple of miles is a small town, called Middleton, the same

place where Gen. D. S. Stanley gave the rebel cavalry such a trouncing.

Near this little town I met a squad of rebel cavalry under the command

of a lieutenant. I had just turned into the road, and did not see them

until retreat was out of the question; for I was within half-pistol shot

of them. For a moment I felt very bad, but the next instant resolved to

"_face_" on them, and "_bluff_" through. Throwing up my cap, I gave a

loud hurrah, as if I was immensely pleased over something that had just

transpired. My first exclamation was, "Well, boys, I am glad to see you;

how do you all get along, and what is the news from the army?"

"We are all well, I believe," said the lieutenant, eyeing me closely;

"what command do you belong to, sir?"

"O, I belong to the 1st Louisiana Cavalry," said I; "my name is Bonham,

and I am captain of Company I of that regiment."

"Ah! ha!" he said, dubiously scrutinizing my splendid uniform, which

really had belonged to Captain Bonham, and who had died while a prisoner

in our hands; "then. Captain, allow me to ask what you are doing so

close to the Yankee pickets, and _alone_?"

"O," I exclaimed, "I have had such a remarkable adventure, and if you

are not in a hurry, I will give you the particulars."

"Certainly, sir, we should be pleased to hear it," said the Lieutenant,

still surveying me intently; "but first tell me how far it is to the

Yankee pickets, if you know, for so small a party of us may be in danger

here."

"O, no," said I, "not in the least; for I have just come out through

them, and the picket line is away beyond (north) of Old Fosterville, as

much as three miles."

"Good on your head," said the Lieutenant; "but, Captain, what in the

world were you doing in the Yankee lines?"

"Why, you see," I went on, "I was out here in this neighborhood some

time ago, with part of my regiment, on a scout. We went into camp at

night, not far from New Fosterville, in a secluded place in the big

cedar brake, north of town; after seeing the command all properly

disposed for the night, I with two other officers, in company with

Lieutenant Col. Wood of our regiment, who is, as perhaps you are aware,

one of our most reliable scouts, went out on a reconnoisance toward the

Yankee pickets. Wood, you know, is a perfect dare-devil, and what do you

think he proposes to do? Why, sir, to go to a house in plain view of the

Yankee pickets, and call for a supper for the whole party. Tickled at

this novel proposition, in the excitement of the moment, we forgot the

dictates of prudence, and consented to go. We had been there for perhaps

an hour or more, and the lady of the house had laid a bountiful supper

on the table, and we were just in the act of sitting down to eat it,

when a little darkey came rushing into the room, in a terrible fright,

saying, "Oh masters, oh Miss Louise, de Yankee sogers hab dun cum, dey

out dar in de road now, an dey all got hosses. Oh run gemmen, or dey

done cotch you in a minute." Wood and my companions rushed out and

broke over a fence in the back yard, and into the cedar brake, and made

good their escape, followed, of course, by a rapid fire from the

Yankees. I knew very well that I could never be so fortunate on my

wounded leg, for, you see, gentlemen, I was wounded in a skirmish in

Kentucky last winter, and my right leg is very weak, (at the same time

raising my foot from the stirrup, I showed an ugly scar on my shin,

caused by being kicked by a horse years before), and realizing my

inability to keep up with my more fortunate companions, I deemed it best

to surrender without resistance, for I was afraid the infuriated

wretches might kill me after I gave in, if not before. On passing my

sword over to the officer in charge, who was a first Lieutenant, judge

my surprise to recognize in him an old acquaintance and friend who used

to clerk in the same store where I was employed in New Orleans. His name

was Dobbs, (he was first Lieutenant of my own company); and he was glad

to see me, and said that he was extremely sorry that I was a prisoner,

but promised to use his influence to make my imprisonment as light as

possible on me. He saw that the men treated me with respect, and as soon

as he got to camp he went in person to intercede for me with Gen.

Mitchell, who kindly paroled me and gave me the liberty of the cavalry

camp; Lieut. Dobbs promising to become responsible for my safe keeping.

The Lieutenant did everything in his power to make me comfortable, and

took me in his own mess, to eat at his table free of expense. Of course

I appreciated the kindness of so generous a foe, but still was anxious

to recover my liberty. Seeing that it was manifestly to my advantage to

cultivate amicable relations with my captors, I sought by every means in

my power to ingratiate myself into their favor; and so completely did I

win their confidence that this morning the Lieutenant proposed that I

should accompany him on a short ride beyond the pickets. Of course I

gladly accepted the kind invitation, and, the Lieutenant borrowing a

horse for me from one of his men, we mounted, when he said that he was

going out to a farm house to procure butter, eggs and milk for his

table. After we had got nearly a mile from the pickets the Lieutenant

dismounted, to arrange his clothing and adjust a "Yankee button," (made

by poking a stick through the cloth) to his suspenders. We were standing

beside a tree when the Lieutenant took off his belt, and laid his

pistols on the ground beside him; then turning his back to me, began

working at his button. There was a chance that promised success.

Springing forward I seized the belt, and drawing a pistol from it sprang

upon the Lieutenant's horse, and galloped away, leaving him overwhelmed

with astonishment at his own foolish carelessness. Perhaps it was wrong

in me thus to betray the confidence of so generous a man, but

Lieutenant, no man knows how sweet it is to be free, until he has once

been a prisoner."

During the delivery of this story, the whole command had given me the

utmost attention; and when I had concluded their admiration was almost

unbounded. The Lieutenant cordially extended his hand and said:

"Captain, allow me to congratulate you on your very fortunate escape,"

while his men expressed their feelings in sundry remarks, which,

although meaningless to a citizen, are very expressive to a soldier.

"Bully for him," said one.

"Ah, he's a Tartar," said another.

"He's too old for the Yanks," remarked a third.

Seeing that now I had completely disarmed them of suspicion, I urged my

anxiety to rejoin my regiment, and of hearing from home, and politely

wished them a good day and a successful trip, and galloped away,

followed by their congratulations.

As soon as I was well out of their sight, toward Shelbyville, I turned

off on a by-road, and took my way to the "Widow's bridge." About two

miles from this bridge, I stopped to get my supper, at a house occupied

by a widow named Cheatham, who was a relative of General Cheatham, and

of Cheatham, the mayor of Nashville. She received me with generous

hospitality, and soon provided a bountiful supper for me. Giving my

horse time to rest after eating, for I had to ride all night, I sat and

talked to the lady after supper for some time. She had much to say

about General Breckenridge, who had been camped very near her house, a

few days before, and who had paid her a visit. She was very much

flattered at this, and told me that part of the General's command were

camped near, and that there was a picket post at the far end of the

bridge. When night set in, I called for my horse, and told the lady that

I believed I would ride. It was in the latter part of March, and when I

went out to my horse, the wind was blowing almost a gale, and snow was

drifting in the air profusely. The widow went out through the storm to

see me mounted at the gate. She expressed the liveliest sympathy for me

in having to ride through that dark, cold, stormy night; and seeing that

I had no gloves to draw on, she sent a negro into the house for a pair

of yarn gloves, with instructions where to find them, and to hurry back,

for she was already getting cold. Presently the negro returned with the

articles, and as I was drawing them on, I began to grumble at the cold.

"Wait a minute," she said, and away she went to the house, and soon came

running back with a very fine white wool blanket, which she folded like

a shawl and threw around me, pinning it under my chin with her own

hands. Bidding this hospitable lady good bye, I mounted and was soon

prowling around the picket post at the bridge. I discovered that the

structure was in good repair, and that it could be crossed with safety;

then turning up the river, I inspected, in turn, two others across the

stream. While prowling about the second one, which was only a mile from

town, I unexpectedly run into a company of rebels, who were returning to

their camp. I was just riding out from the bridge, when the sound of

horse's feet approaching attracted my attention. How to escape meeting

them I could not tell; so posting myself by the side of the fence, under

the shadow of a large tree, when they had approached within a short

distance, I sung out "Halt," in a loud and resolute tone, and in the

next breath demanded, "Who comes there?"

"Friends," was the prompt reply.

"Dismount one and advance with the countersign."

"We haven't got the countersign," said the commander.

"What do you belong to," I asked.

"Morgan's battalion," he replied.

"Then break from the right," said I, "and pass us by file until we see

what you look like; and if you prove to be confederates, you may pass in

without delay."

Breaking by file, as ordered, they marched by me so close that I could

have touched them with a ten foot pole. Keeping myself under the shadow

of the tree, I pretended to inspect them as they rode by. When a few

files had passed, I sung out, "All right, captain, you can reform your

men."

"Form fours; forward, march," he shouted, and I soon heard his men

clattering over the bridge and cursing it as an old "basket" that was

unsafe to cross, and must soon fall down. They had not gone more than a

few steps before the officer ordered his men to dismount and lead over

by file, swearing that he believed the bridge would break if they did

not do so. Of course this was information to me. I well knew that I must

now ride for my life, for the trick would be discovered as soon as they

reached the picket on the other side of the bridge. Turning up the road

and keeping on soft ground, I followed until I came to a "timber" road,

running through a cedar brake, where I turned off, and was soon safe

from pursuit in the labyrinth of ways that ran in all directions through

the woods. Keeping up the country, I passed above the town about five

miles, and hiding my horse in another brake not far from a house, (for I

heard a chicken crow,) I followed the direction of the sound, and

finding the house, roused a darkey, and got some corn bread and bacon

from him, and directions where to find corn for my horse. I returned to

where my animal was hitched, fed him, and laid down to sleep. I stayed

in that brake until the next night, and then commencing at the upper

bridge, I hunted down the river toward Shelbyville again, and found two

more bridges, besides the one at the town, in good repair.

Riding cautiously as near the town as I could prudently, I took a good

survey of it, but did not add much to my store of knowledge. Meeting an

old darkey coming along the road, I stopped him, and in a low tone asked

several questions as to what troops occupied the place, and if the

bridge at town was in good repair. He informed me that the place was

occupied by Morgan's Battalion of Cavalry and part of Wharton's Hangers;

that some of them were quartered in the town, but the larger part were

camped on the south side of the river, and were picketing the bridge,

which was in good condition.

I had now accomplished all that I had been sent to do. I had learned all

about every bridge, and had explored every approach to Shelbyville from

the north side of the river. Feeling glad that my dangerous duty was

over, with a feeling of relief I turned my horse's head once more toward

Murfreesboro, where in imagination I could see "old Starry," poring

over his maps by candle light, perhaps impatiently awaiting my arrival;

but I was, as railroad men say, "on time," so I did not give myself any

uneasiness on that score. I had not ridden more than three hundred yards

when I saw a couple of men step into the road only a few yards ahead of

me, and then facing me they commanded me to "halt." Knowing that death

was my portion if captured in that disguise, I instantly spurred my

animal forward at a charge, straight upon them. When within about two

jumps of them, I fired on the right hand man, when he gave an

exclamation of pain and let his gun fall, and the next jump my horse

struck him full in the breast with his knees and knocked him high in the

air, and as he fell to the ground cleared his body with a bound. The

left hand man fired as I passed, and so close were we to each other that

the powder from his gun stung my face like fine shot. Seeing more men in

the cedars on the right, I threw myself down, Comanche fashion, with my

head by my horse's breast, but not a second too soon, for they sent a

dozen balls whistling after me. Driving the spurs into my horse, I urged

him to his utmost for about three miles, when I then checked up, to see

if I was pursued; but I heard no more of the rebels that night, and

pursued my way unmolested to camp, where I arrived just as the General

was eating his breakfast. I do not know who it was that was firing on

me, unless I had blundered inside of the rebel pickets in the dark. The

General was very glad that I escaped so well, and praised me to all the

officers for venturing so far. But I soon had additional cause to feel

proud, for my party of scouts were the first Yankees into Shelbyville,

where we captured a bank and put it under charge of a guard until

relieved by the authorities. This was the only institution in Tennessee

which could redeem its notes; and I afterward learned that it did redeem

its entire circulation in United States currency.

The rebels soon got over their scare and began to trouble us again. I

scouted the country a good while as Captain Bonham, of the 1st Louisiana

Cavalry, but I accomplished nothing more worthy of narration, except

that I had a few single-handed combats with members of Morgan's

command.

_CHAPTER XVIII._

TRIP TO DECATUR--LIVELY ADVENTURES.

On the 8th of April I was sent by General Mitchell down to Decatur, to

get information as to the state of the country, and to destroy the

railroad bridge at that point, if possible. I set out for Shelbyville,

mounted on old Punch, my pet horse, properly armed and fully equipped

with turpentine and matches, to do the required work. "Old Starry," (our

pet name for General Mitchell), "blowed me up" that morning for being

slow, which was the only time he was ever out of humor with me. He had

given me a fine horse the day before, and I told him I was trying him to

see if he was suitable for the trip; and that he was not to be trusted,

and I would, consequently, have to ride old Punch.

This horse, for his services, deserves especial mention, and I will,

therefore, describe him. He was a Spanish brown, fifteen hands high,

with black legs, mane and tail. He was no fancy horse, but heavy and

substantial, with a good honest trot, a fast walk and never failing

wind. I had drawn him at Camp Gurley, and trained him to suit my

purpose.

Near to the town of Fayetteville, in Lincoln county, Kentucky, night

overtook me, and I left the road a short distance and slept in the

woods. This was on Saturday night, and on Sunday morning I rode into

town. The citizens were astonished to see a single man dressed in full

Yankee costume--blue jacket, blue blouse and blue pants--and armed with

the well known Yankee accoutrements, venture among them. They gathered

about me in a great crowd, and seemed to regard it as the freak of a

madman; but on approaching me at the hotel, they found me entirely

rational, cool, and of decent deportment, and they at once changed their

minds, and took me for one of their own men in disguise. Seeing that it

was my best plan to encourage this belief, I ordered my breakfast, went

to the stable to see my horse fed, and then returned to my room at the

hotel. There were about three hundred men gathered on the sidewalk to

ascertain what the strange arrival meant, and to hear the news; and they

were watching me with eager interest. I felt that I was playing a

delicate game, with my neck in a halter. If they had only known my true

character, they would but too gladly have hanged me to the nearest tree.

They asked me my name, which I told them; next my regiment, and with a

swaggering air, I said:

"The 4th Ohio Cavalry."

"What is your Colonel's name?" said one.

"Colonel John Kennett," I answered, slowly, and with a dubious look.

"What is your Captain's name?" inquired another.

"Captain O. P. Robie," I told him.

"Where is your command?" asked one who appeared to be a man of

consequence.

"At Shelbyville."

"Well," he continued, "if your command is there, what are you doing here

by yourself?"

"Why, sir," I responded, "if you want to know, I came to demand the

surrender of this town."

"Well, well," said the man; "that is too good. One man to take a town

like this," and they enjoyed the joke hugely.

They now began to look exceedingly wise; and I heard the whisper pass

from mouth to mouth, that I was one of Morgan's men. This declaration I

heard again and again, as I passed through the crowd. Soon after, a

gentleman stepped up to me and requested to examine my gun, which I

handed to him after removing the cap; but I at the same time drew out my

pistol, cocked it, and held it in my hand till my piece was returned to

me. After a brief survey of the gun, it was delivered over to me with

trembling hand, when I restored the cap and put up my pistol.

At this moment I was called to breakfast, and walked into the dining

room and sat down to the table, keeping an eye on everything at once. I

seated myself beside a man of good appearance, who had on a handsome

uniform and the three stars of a rebel Colonel. Slinging my carbine

across my knees, with the hammer up, ready for instant use, I loosed my

pistols, in the scabbard on one side, and a vicious bowie knife on the

other, after which I began to appease my appetite on the good things

before me, watching the Colonel closely. He looked at me three different

times, and then rising abruptly from the table, darted out into the

crowd, and I saw no more of him. A few minutes after, I heard the people

on the sidewalk raise a loud laugh at the expense of some one.

After eating a meal--the first since I had left camp--I went out into

the crowd again, and called for the mayor, saying I wanted him to

surrender the town. Again the bystanders raised a laugh, and called for

some one to go for the mayor, as he was not present. They then began to

joke me about our gun-boats, saying the Yankees would never fight unless

backed by them. I told them that General Mitchell had dry land

gun-boats, with steel soles and spring runners, and that he had used

them with great effect at Bowling Green. One of the men said:

"If you're a Yankee, show us a Yankee trick, and we will believe you."

"Gentlemen," said I, "I will do my best to show you one, before I leave

this neck of timber."

"Where are you going?" said one.

"Down the country," I replied.

"Look here, now," one of the fellows pursued, "you may as well own up

and tell us where the captain is."

"What captain?" I asked.

"Why, Captain Morgan, to be sure."

"Gentlemen," said I, slowly, "you have waked up the wrong passenger. I

belong to the 4th Ohio Cavalry;" and again the laugh rung out at my

preposterous assertion.

In obedience to directions, my horse was brought out, and it was a

favorable time to leave, as they were all in a good humor, and I

consequently mounted and took the road to Huntsville at a gallop. Just

as I passed the crowd one fellow sung out:

"Hold on there, you haven't shown us that Yankee trick yet."

"There's plenty of time," said I, turning in my saddle to watch their

movements, "before I leave this section of the country."