Sleeping Among the Husks.
We crossed the creek to another dwelling, where the occupant, a life-long invalid, was intensely loyal. With his wife and little son, he greeted us very warmly, adding:
"I wish I could keep you in my house; but it would not be safe. We will give you quilts, and you may sleep among the husks in the barn, where you will be warm and dry. If the Guards come during the night, they will be likely to search the house first, and the boy or the woman can probably give you warning. But, if they do find you, of course you will tell them that we are not privy to your concealment, because, you know, it would be a matter of life and death for me."
We found the husks dry and fragrant, and soon forgot our weariness.
XXIV. Tuesday, January 10.
Breakfasting before daylight, that we might not be seen leaving the house, we sought our rendezvous. Those who had remained in camp were a wet, cold, sorry-looking party.
By nine o'clock, several, who had been among the Union people in the neighborhood, returned, and held a consultation. The accounts of all agreed that, fifteen or twenty miles ahead, the danger was great, and the country exceedingly difficult to pass through. Moreover, the Union forces still appeared to recede as we approached the places where they were reputed to be. We were now certain that there were none at Jonesboro, none at Greenville, probably none east of Strawberry Plains.
Turning Back in Discouragement.
Eight or ten of our party determined to turn back. Among them were three Union soldiers, who had seen service and peril. But they said to us, as they turned to retrace their steps over Rich Mountain:
"It is useless to go on. The party will never get through in the world. Not a single man of it will reach Knoxville, unless he waits till the road is clear."