It was finally decided to make the attack August 11th. Colonel Hays wanted accurate information about the state of things inside town.
“Leave that to me,” said I.
Three days remained before the battle.
Next morning there rode up to the picket line at Independence an old apple-woman, whose gray hair and much of her face was nearly hidden by an old-fashioned and faded sun-bonnet. Spectacles half hid her eyes and a basket on her arm was laden with beets, beans and apples.
The left rein was leather but a rope replaced the right.
“Good morning, grandmother,” bantered the first picket. “Does the rebel crop need any rain out in your country?”
The sergeant at the reserve post seized her bridle, and looking up said:
“Were you younger and prettier, I might kiss you.”
“Were I younger and prettier, I might box your ears for your impudence.”
“Oh, ho! You old she-wolf, what claws you have for scratching!” he retorted, and reached for her hand.