"They are a band of guerrillas, and they will have us in less than a minute, if we don't get away from here."
Just then the guerrillas started for us.
"Come on, Bunker; for God's sake, let us run!" said Tom. "They are coming now!"
Turning square to the right, away we went, as hard as we could run, toward Davis Creek. A hundred and fifty yards brought us to a dense growth of brush and briars, so thick as to seem impenetrable. There was no getting around it, for our pursuers were close upon us. With all the strength we could muster, we sprang into that briar patch and scrambled through. It was no time to mind scratches, and so we dashed on to the creek. Our pursuers could not get their horses through the briars, and before they could get round them, we were across the creek. We made our way to Davis' cotton-gin, where we found a picket post. A few paces from the post, the guerrillas were in sight. I showed them to the pickets, and told them I would go and report the guerrillas to the Major in command.
Having found the Major, I said: "Major, there are about thirty guerrillas just across Davis Creek, not half a mile from here, and if you will get out your men, you can surround them and capture them."
"Who are you?" he inquired.
"I am a scout for the Government."
"Where are you from?"
"Why, I am right from the guerrillas," said I, getting out of patience; "they have just chased me through a briar patch. Look at my hands and face, if you want any evidence of it. You can see the guerrillas from the cotton-gin."
"Who is that man with you?"