The road began to narrow rapidly, until it became simply a bridle-path, over which I do not believe a carriage had ever passed before. The ascent became steeper and steeper, many places being encountered over which the carriages had to be lifted by the men. The horses could hardly be driven over these precipitous places, much less be made to pull.
The infantry which had been ordered to accompany the battery to assist in getting us over the rough places, became tired very early, and the men of the battery becoming disgusted with their continual grumbling, and the awkward manner in which they rendered their assistance, drove them away, preferring to do it alone. Both men and horses performed herculean labor that day.
During the afternoon we had been encouraged by the report that there was very little more of this terribly hard labor to be performed. If we could only hold out just a little while we should reach the top of the mountain, and after we passed the "Pine Knot Tavern," the road would be level, and in much better condition.
I do not know whether it was the hope of getting through with the labor, or the anxiety to reach the tavern—many of them picturing to themselves an establishment something after the style of the good old New England tavern, filled with plenty to eat and drink—that stimulated the men to greater exertions or not, but for an hour or two our progress was much more rapid. It was after dark when we reached a spot large enough to park the battery at very close intervals, and bivouacked for the night.
Early on the morning of the 27th, after giving our horses all the corn left, we started on. Very soon we passed "Pine Knot Tavern," which consisted of a cellar half filled with the debris of what had been a small log cabin, the supports of which had rotted off and allowed the cabin to fall into the cellar.
Several natives, who had come from their homes, located in the ravines on either side of the mountain, to see us pass, and sell a few chickens (their stock had been exhausted long before we passed), were the first people we had seen since we entered the wilderness.
All day we marched at this high elevation. Occasionally a cloud would sweep across our path, enveloping us in fog for a while; then there would be places where we would pass out of the woods and a most magnificent landscape would unfold to our view. Sometimes it would be Kentucky, at others East Tennessee upon which we were looking. Taken all together it was the most enjoyable panoramic sort of a march that the battery ever made.
It was left, however, for the morning of the 29th to unfold the most magnificent sight that most of us had ever looked upon. As we gazed about, we found that our location gave us a view on both sides of the mountain. To the north we could see back into Kentucky, almost to our starting point, and trace the route which we had just come over, dotted here and there with the towns and villages through which we had passed. Many of us had wondered why that section of the State had been called the "Blue Grass Region;" the reason was plainly evident to us now, for there it lay before us, as blue as though it had been dyed.