"I don't know," said Mr. Chunn.
"Have your neighbors guns and powder?"
"No."
"Then," said I, "it may mean a great deal for us."
We all rose from the table, and looked anxiously across the fields; but nothing was to be seen. The family looked troubled, and Mr. Chunn said something about the mules being gone, and this being strange. We waited some time, but all continued quiet. But the boys had not found the mules, and Mr. Chunn accordingly walked on with me toward the house of Mr. Edward Magness, who was likewise a good Union man, and would willingly help me on.
I took leave of these kind, simple-minded people, whose plain and honest goodness is rare in the great world, from which they live apart, and went slowly along the little wood road. I soon came to a field in which were two or three men and several children, planting corn. I must here explain to you that in the South corn is the one great crop on which everybody lives. The bread is all made of corn; the horses are fed on corn; the pigs are fattened on corn; and if the corn should fail there would be a famine. There were fears that it would fail. The spring had been cold and wet, and the planting was not half done, which always had been over a week before. All hands were working early and late on every plantation, seizing on this fine weather for hurrying in the corn. As Mr. Magness came down a furrow, near me, I stepped out of the bushes, and told him briefly who I was, and what I wanted. It must have been an unwelcome tale; yet he never, by a look or word, gave a disagreeable sign. Promptly he stopped his plough and unhitched his horses. Unwillingly I saw the planting cease. But when I spoke of it, he said pleasantly, they would try and make up the lost time when he came back. We went to his house, the saddles were soon put on, and we started. My companion was more than usually intelligent, and gave me much information. He also understood the danger of being seen by secessionists, and picked his way with great care by unused roads.
A ride of several miles brought us to the house of Mr. Wade. A very shrewd and cautious man was Mr. Wade, yet a staunch Union man, who had spoken, and suffered for the cause. He had spent the previous eight months chiefly at Paducah, stealing up occasionally in the dark of evening to see his family, and leaving before daylight the next morning. Once he had been arrested, and twice his house had been searched and robbed. He knew well the woods and by-paths, and had tried the difficulties and dangers of escaping from guerrillas. He and I, therefore, had much more in common than the others, and in him I felt I had a trusty and experienced friend; yet strange to tell, he was—a South Carolinian.
We went into the house. On a couch lay a very aged woman, who, I thought, was childish. Mr. Wade and Mr. Magness were old friends, and talked as country neighbors talk, of crops, and roads, and men, and places. At last Mr. Magness said: "I saw Edward Jones yesterday, and he told me they had had a letter from Joel, and that he wrote they were leaving Corinth, and had been attacked. His regiment was defeated, and he had to run for his life."
The old lady, at this, rose up and said: "Say that over, sir."
Mr. Magness repeated it.