At the earliest dawn we were again on the road. Ahead of us, upon either hand, as far as the eye could reach, could be seen the blue smoke of the picket fires. We were traveling leisurely. I was conversing with Spencer; when suddenly, upon an elevation not ten rods from us, appeared a soldier dressed in blue, who in short, crisp tones commanded, "Halt! Who comes there?"
The Major answered, "Friends!"
"Halt, friends! Advance one, without arms, and give the countersign."
The Major dismounted and advanced. A few moments' conversation took place between him and the soldier, which the distance prevented us from hearing. We soon after heard the order given by the outpost guard to fall in, and then came the order, "Dismount! Advance, friends!"
Dismounting, we advanced, leading our horses. Upon reaching the outpost guard I thought I recognized a familiar face. "What regiment do you belong to?" I asked.
"The First Wisconsin Cavalry," was the reply.
"Give us your hand, old fellow!" I exclaimed, with the tears running down my cheeks. "Let me hug you. Hurrah, boys! Do you hear that? First Wisconsin Cavalrymen!"
Hatcher and Spencer were dancing about, crying and laughing. In fact, we were all of us fairly crazed with joy. Our new friends did not seem at all proud of their demonstrative guests. In truth, they rather drew back from our demonstrations of affection.
"Who are you, anyhow?" one of them sourly asked.