"Yes; one of your lieutenants was taken, but escaped, and came down from Mayfield by railroad. And now," said the adjutant, "don't stay here any longer; go at once to the hospital, and I will send an order to the medical director to give you a good surgeon."
A few moments more, and I caught sight of a group of my men. Then came the painful questions: Who have come in? Who are missing? Who last saw this one? Who knows anything of that one? Where does K's family live? and who will write to tell them how he fell? And then came a surgeon—a quiet room—a tedious time—an old friend—and a journey home.
X. THE LAST SCOUT.
From New York to Fort Henry might once have been an interesting journey, but campaigning has robbed travelling of its charm, and henceforth I fear it will be but dull work for me. The railroad bore me swiftly to the mouth of the Ohio; I have looked again on Cairo in its dirt and mud, Paducah with its dusty streets and hospitals, and now I am on the banks of the Tennessee.
But I am here only to close my service in the West, and to say good-bye to my comrades of the Fifth; to get Gipsy, and to recover my sabre. I have had an interesting soldier-life in Tennessee—more interesting than I shall have again—and I leave it with regret.
With me so many things have happened here on Sunday, that you must not be surprised that it is Sunday now. It was on Sunday that Donelson surrendered—on Sunday that I went upon my first foraging—on Sunday that I entered Paris with a flag—on Sunday that we began our first retreat—and it is Sunday now that I am starting on my last scout.
The party consists of the men of my old squadron, most of whom were with me in the spring. They have not been to the Obion since, and quickly guess that our destination is Lockridge Mill.