ON THE BANKS OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE
Our army had crossed the Chattahoochee. The Federal army was on the other side; our pickets on the south side, the Yankees on the north side. By a tacit agreement, as had ever been the custom, there was no firing across the stream. That was considered the boundary. It mattered not how large or small the stream, pickets rarely fired at each other. We would stand on each bank, and laugh and talk and brag across the stream.
One day, while standing on the banks of the Chattahoochee, a Yankee called out:
"Johnny, O, Johnny, O, Johnny Reb."
Johnny answered, "What do you want?"
"You are whipped, aren't you?"
"No. The man who says that is a liar, a scoundrel, and a coward."
"Well, anyhow, Joe Johnston is relieved of the command."
"What?"
"General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved."
"What is that you say?"
"General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved, and Hood appointed in his place."
"You are a liar, and if you will come out and show yourself I will shoot you down in your tracks, you lying Yankee galloot."
"That's more than I will stand. If the others will hands off, I will fight a duel with you. Now, show your manhood."
Well, reader, every word of this is true, as is everything in this book. Both men loaded their guns and stepped out to their plates. They were both to load and fire at will, until one or both were killed. They took their positions without either trying to get the advantage of the other. Then some one gave the command to "Fire at will; commence firing." They fired seven shots each; at the seventh shot, poor Johnny Reb fell a corpse, pierced through the heart.