When General Lewis Wallace’s division entered the town of Purdy, Hurst accompanied it. He asked General Wallace for a guard, to make an important arrest. His request was granted. He went to the jail, found the jailer, and demanded his keys. The jailer gave them up. Hurst unlocked the cage, and there he found a half-starved slave, who had been put in for no crime, but to keep him from running away to the Union army.
He released the slave and told him to go where he pleased. The colored man could hardly stand, he was so cramped and exhausted by his long confinement and want of food.
“Step in there!” said Hurst to the jailer. The jailer shrunk back.
“Step in there, you scoundrel!” said Hurst, more determinedly.
“You don’t mean to put me in there, Hurst!” said the jailer, almost whining.
“Step in, I say, or I’ll let daylight through you!” He seized a gun from one of the soldiers and pricked the jailer a little with the bayonet, to let him know that he was in earnest. The other soldiers fenced him round with a glittering line of sharp steel points. They chuckled, and thought it capital fun.
The jailer stepped in, whining and begging, and saying that he never meant to harm Hurst. Having got him inside, Hurst locked the door, put the key in his pocket, dismissed the soldiers, and went away. He was gone two days, and when he returned, had lost the key!
The cage was built of oak logs, and bolted so firmly with iron that it took half a day, with axes, to get the jailer out. He never troubled Hurst again, who joined the Union army as a scout, and did excellent service, for he was well acquainted with the country.
While operations were going on at Island No. 10, I went up the river one day, and visited the hospitals at Mound City and Paducah. In one of the wards a surgeon was dressing the arm of a brave young Irishman, who was very jolly. His arm had been torn by a piece of shell, but he did not mind it much. The surgeon was performing an operation which was painful.
“Does it hurt, Patrick?” he asked.