The Colonel made no reply.
"Well, Colonel, they say, when sparking old maids, that silence gives consent so I guess I'll take it."
He lay on his back, with his feet crossed, and one arm laying across his breast. His boots were already gone. Taking hold of his arm and raising it up, I found that it was limber. Said I, "You haven't had your furlough long, have you, Colonel?" He made no reply. I set the body up, and got down upon my knees in front of it, and commenced to take off the coat. A gasp and a convulsive spring forward brought the Colonel's open mouth suddenly against my face. Unearthly horror seized me; with one bound I was on my feet, and the next thing that I knew I was in camp. To say that I was frightened is no description of my feelings. Had a demon from the infernal regions placed his gnashing jaws against my face, I could not have been more horrified. I covered myself in my blankets, and cold tremors crept over me for hours after. Every attempt to court sleep would force through my mind a vivid recollection of every mean thing that I had ever done, followed by all the stories of ghosts and hobgoblins that I had ever heard. I have had no desire since to obtain a rebel Colonel's coat.
The next morning the march was resumed. Nothing of particular interest occurred, save the usual skirmishing, foraging, and burning consequent upon such expeditions, for several days. After we had crossed Pearl River, I was kept constantly on the flanks, scouting and foraging. I usually had a squad of men with me. At Jonesboro I was sent out on the left flank, with a squad of eight men. A few miles out from Jonesboro, the road leading to Hillsboro forks. The straight and most direct road leads through seven miles of swamp, and is known as the "lower road." The right-hand road leads to the south, around the swamp, and is called the "upper road." The latter was the one taken by the army in its route to Hillsboro. When I left the troops in the morning, I did not know that there was more than one road leading to that place. The consequence was, I kept to the left of the lower road, which carried me entirely too far from the main force of the army for safety.
After traveling about eight miles, we came to a cross-road. Our course, thus far, had not been confined to any road, but lay across the fields. As we came to the cross-road we emerged from a piece of woodland. Half a mile beyond us was a double log-house and several large rail-pens, which we had learned were filled with Confederate corn. Three hundred yards to the left of the corn we discovered a camp of two regiments of rebel cavalry. These we tried to clear, by filing to the right and keeping along in the timber to the west of the road. Less than a hundred yards brought us to a small stream of water, whose banks were lined with a dense growth of alders. The stream, after crossing the road, made its way along to within fifty yards of the corn-crib. Taking advantage of the cover afforded by the alders, one of my party waded down the shallow stream until opposite the cribs, and then, under cover of the cribs, made his way to them and set them on fire, and then retraced his steps.
Two miles further south, we came to a planter's house, where I found a table spread for eighteen persons, and fried sausage figured extensively in the meal, which was then nearly prepared.
"You've got the table set for some Johnnies, I reckon," said I to the planter.
"No, sir; for none but our own family."
"I reckon you have; I'll go out and stand picket while my men come in and eat." I went out and sent the men in to eat the sausage. As I was about to step behind an ash-house that stood in the yard, the old man, who had followed me out, stepped up to me and begged of me not to go there. Said he, "If you do, you will surely get shot."
"You want to frighten the men away from that sausage," said I, still determined to go there.