“What does he want?” said the first.
“He is slipping round to see if we are asleep.”
After I got a safe distance in the bushes, I lay down and slept till the moon arose. To the surprise of my bewildered brain, it seemed to rise in the west. Taking my course, I hastened on, sometimes through woods, sometimes through cornfields, and sometimes through swamps. Coming to a large pasture, in which a number of cows were grazing, I tried to obtain some milk, but none of them would allow me to approach near enough to effect my purpose. My face was not of the right colour, and my costume belonged to a sex that never milked them. I travelled until day-break, when I concealed myself in a thicket of cane, and had scarcely fallen asleep when I heard the sound of the reveille, in a camp close at hand. Arising, I hurriedly beat a retreat, and travelled several hours before I dared take any rest. I at length lay down amid the branches of a fallen tree, and slept. Visions of home and friends flitted before me. Voices sweet and kind greeted me on all sides. The bitter taunts of cruel officers no longer assailed my ears. The loved ones at home were present, and the joys of the past were renewed. But, alas! the falling of a limb dissipated all my fancied pleasures. The reality returned, and I was still a fugitive escaping for life, and in the midst of a hostile country.
To-day my mock trial would have taken place, and I fancied the disappointment of Woodruff, who had stated that to his knowledge I was a spy, and to-day would have sworn it. And Barnes, the mail-robber, recommended for promotion because of his heroism in re-arresting me, how sad he must feel, that the bird had flown, and that he would not have the pleasure of witnessing my execution. I thanked God and took courage. Though faint and weary, I was still hopeful and trusting, often repeating,
“’Tis God has led me safe thus far,
And he will bring me home.”
On this (Monday) night, I travelled steadily, crossing swamps, corn-fields, woods, and pastures. I came to only one cotton-field during the night. I passed through several wheat-fields, where the wheat had been harvested; I pulled a handful from a shock, and rubbed out some of the grain, but it was so bitter I could not eat it. I suspected every bush a secessionist, though I felt much more secure at night than in daylight. I avoided roads as much as possible, travelling on none except to cross them, which was done with great rapidity. The rising sun still found me pressing onward, and thirst and hunger were now consuming me. To satisfy hunger, I had recourse to the corn-field; but I could find no water. I would gladly have drank any kind of beverage, however filthy, so that my thirst might be allayed. About nine o’clock, when I had almost despaired of getting water at all, I came to a copious fountain in a gorge of the hills, and from its appearance, I seemed to be the discoverer. Around it there was no trace of human foot, nor hoof of cattle. On beholding it, I wept with joy. I remained by it about four hours, quaffing its cool and crystal waters, the first running water I had tasted since leaving prison. I also bathed my body and washed my clothes, drying them in the sun, and endeavoured to rid them of vermin, in which I only partially succeeded. I named this fountain Fons Beatus, and left it with sincere sorrow.
Three o’clock, P. M., arrived, and I felt bewildered. I knew not where I was. I might be near friends, I might be near bloodthirsty foes. I could scarcely walk. My iron bands had become very irksome. I felt that I was becoming childish. I could tell all my bones. I tried to pray, but could only utter, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner!” Still I felt thankful that it was so well with me as it was.
At that very hour, had I not escaped, I should have been either on the scaffold at Tupelo, or suspended between heaven and earth, surrounded by an insulting and jeering army. This reflection made me thankful to God, even though I should die in the swamps. The sky became overcast, and I found it impossible to distinguish north from south. I therefore concealed myself and slept. It was night when I awoke, and the clouds still covered the sky threateningly, concealing my guiding star, and rendering it impossible for me to proceed. Thus, when I wished most to go forward, my progress was arrested, and my distressing suspense prolonged. During the whole night I was asleep and awake alternately, but could not at any time discern either moon or stars. Once, while sleeping behind a fallen tree by the roadside, a horseman passed by. His dog, a large and ferocious-looking animal, came running along by the side of the tree where I was lying. When he reached me, I raised up suddenly and brandishing a club menacingly, the alarmed and howling dog incontinently and ingloriously fled, leaving me master of the field.
On Wednesday morning the sun was still obscured until nine o’clock. I was then sick. There was a ringing in my ears, and I was affected with vertigo, a dimness of vision and faintness, which rendered me absolutely unfit for travel. It required an hour to walk a quarter of a mile. I found a good supply of blackberries, which very much refreshed me. Before me was a hill, the top of which I reached after two hours’ laborious ascent. I despaired of getting much further. I thought I must perish in the Iron Furnace of secession, which was heated very hot for me. Feeling confident that I must be near Tippah county, and knowing that there were many Union men in that county, I resolved to call at the first house on my route. If I remained where I was, I must perish, as I could go no further, and if I met with a Union family, I should be saved; if with “a secesh,” I might possibly impose upon their credulity, and get refreshment without being arrested. They might, however, cause my arrest. It was a dilemma such as I hope never to be placed in again. About an hour before sunset I came to a house, and remained near it for some time. At length I saw a negro girl come to the door. Knowing that where there were negroes, in nine cases out of ten there were secessionists near, I left the house as quickly as my enfeebled condition would permit. Going to another house, I remained near it till I was satisfied there were no negroes held by that family. I then went boldly up, knocked, gained admittance, and asked for some water, which was given me. The lady of the house, scrutinizing me closely, asked me if I were from Tupelo. I replied in the affirmative. She then inquired my name. I gave her my Christian name, John Hill, suppressing the surname. Her husband was sitting near, a man of Herculean frame; and as the wife’s inquisitiveness was beginning to alarm me, I turned to him and said: “My friend, you are a man of great physical powers, and at this time you ought to be in the army. The Yankees are overrunning all our country, and the service of every man is needed.” His wife replied that he was not in the army, nor would he go into it, unless he was forced to go. They had been told that the cavalry would be after him in a few days, to take him as a conscript; but she considered the conscript law, base and tyrannical. Overjoyed at the utterance of such sentiments as these, I then revealed my true character. I told them that I had recently made my escape from Tupelo, where I was doomed to execution on the gallows, and that I was now flying from prison and from death. I then exhibited the iron bands upon my ankles. Both promised all the aid in their power. The lady at once proposed to prepare supper, but I was too near the point of starvation to await the slow process of cooking. She therefore turned down the tablecloth, which covered the fragments remaining from dinner, and disclosed some corn bread and Irish potatoes. Though I never liked corn bread, I must confess I thought that was the sweetest morsel I had ever tasted.
After eating a little, however, I became very sick, and was compelled to desist. It was so long since I had partaken of any substantial food, that my stomach now could not bear it. The lady soon prepared supper, consisting of broiled chicken, and other delicacies. The fowl was quite small, and I ate nearly the whole of it, much to the chagrin of a little daughter of mine host, whom I heard complaining to her mother, afterward, in an adjoining room, saying, “Ma, all I got of that chicken was a little piece of the wing,” and “aint that gentleman a hoss to eat?” with other remarks by no means complimentary to my voracious appetite.