Everything went well until they unexpectedly came to the banks of a considerable stream, and, after a careful search, failed to discover any practicable means of crossing it, except by fording. The fact of its being fordable gave rise to an incident with a moral, and as the gallant captain relates the story we will quote his own words:
"Sitting," he writes, "on a log, and ruminating over our chances, a very selfish piece of strategy suggested itself. Accordingly, I said to Lemon, 'There is no use of both getting wet; we can carry each other over these streams. If you will carry me over this, I will carry you over the next,' I said, 'these streams,' although only one was before us, and the most prominent thought in my mind was that, in all probability, there would be no other.
"Lemon somehow failed to see the point, and consented. Accordingly, taking off our shoes, I mounted on the lieutenant's shoulders, as school-boys sometimes carry each other, and he staggered through the stream with me, doing no worse than wetting my feet. This worked well. I congratulated myself, and gave a generous sympathy to Lemon in his shiverings. The chances were ten to one, I thought, that the carrying business was at an end, when suddenly another stream, wider than the first, rose up in the darkness before us. There was no use in wincing, and I stripped for the task. The lieutenant ascended to the position he had fairly earned. I plunged into the water. The middle of the stream was reached in safety, when, through no fault of mine, either the water became too deep, or my back became too weak for the burden, and the consequence was, the worthy gentleman was nearly as well soaked as myself when we reached the opposite shore. Selfishness, as well as virtue, sometimes brings its own reward."
They crossed three other streams during the night, but, by mutual consent, the carrying contract was canceled, and each did his own wading. "Thus," adds the captain, "another grand scheme for human elevation fell to the ground!"
Weary and wet to the skin, they persevered in their onward course, until they reached another cypress swamp, and discovered a road through it, which had evidently been the scene of a recently fought battle. Fences and buildings were razed to the ground, while fragments of military equipments were scattered about profusely—broken muskets, spent cartridges, and dead cattle; all told the story of a late conflict.
Our fugitives had no means of learning at the time any particulars of the supposed fight, but were afterward informed that less than a week previous to their being on the spot, General Kilpatrick's cavalry and the Seventeenth Army Corps had swept like an avalanche along that road.
The temperature by this time had somewhat moderated, and Glazier and his companion, thinking it unlikely the road would be much used for a time, concluded that they might with safety lie down and obtain some necessary rest and sleep. In their exhausted condition, they slept through the day and the greater part of the following night, arousing themselves with difficulty for the work still before them.
Judging from the fact that many of the dead horses seen on the road bore the brand of the "United States," and from other indications, they arrived at the conclusion that the Union forces were not very distant, and that they themselves were now possibly in the wake of Sherman's army. This being the case, the hope revived in their breasts of soon joining their friends—unless they had the misfortune to be picked up by the enemy's scouts. Hence, having lost so much of the night, they decided to travel this time by day, and at once put their determination into practice. Glazier and his friend soon discovered, however, that they were not expedited in their journey to any great extent—the streams being greatly swollen by the recent rains, formed a serious obstacle to their further progress.
They also felt that traveling by daylight was attended with much hazard to their safety. One advantage of journeying through a part of the country lately traversed by an invading army, was found in the fact of there being much smouldering fire along their line of march, and thus our friends ran no risk of attracting attention by approaching these fires at their several halting-places. This circumstance afforded one element of comfort—warmth. But another, still more important, was lacking, namely—food.
They had traveled the entire day without meeting a single negro, and hence, their commissariat was non est, and gaunt hunger created in them a sense of desperation. In this state they reached, after sunset, a plantation, where no house appeared but a number of humble shanties; and, weary, starving and desperate, they boldly advanced to the door of the best-looking cabin, and knocked for admission.