She looked out. She could see some miles ahead of her, and as far as she could see the road was filled with wagons moving toward Nashville. A sharp spurt of firing on the left attracted her attention, and she saw a long wave of horsemen ride out of the woods, and charge the wagon-guards, who made a sharp resistance, but at length fled before overwhelming numbers. The teamsters, at the first sight of the formidable line, began cutting their wheel-mules loose, and escaping upon them. Rachel's teamster followed their example.
“The off-mule's unhitcht; jump on him, an' skip,” he shouted to her as he vanished up the pike.
The Rebels were shooting down the mules and such teamsters as remained. Some dismounted, and with the axes each wagon carried, chopped the spokes until the wagon fell, while others ran along and started fires in each. In a little while five hundred wagons loaded with rations, clothing, ammunition and stores were blazing furiously. Their work done, the cavalry rode off toward Nashville in search of other trains.
Rachel leaped from the wagon, before the Rebels approached, and took refuge behind a large tree, whence she saw her wagon share the fate of the rest. When the cavalry disappeared, she came out again into the road and walked slowly up it, debating what she could do. She was rejoiced to meet her teamster returning. He had viewed the occurence from a prudent distance, and being kindly-natured had decided to return to her help, as soon as it could be done without risk.
He told her that there was a wagon up the pike a little ways with a woman in it, to which he would conduct her, and they would go back to the army in front of Murfreesboro.
“It seems a case of 'twixt the devil and the deep sea,” he said, despairingly. “At any rate we can't stay out here, and my experience is that it is always safest where there is the biggest crowd.”
They found the wagon with the woman in it. Its driver had bolted irrevocably, so Rachel's friend assumed the reins. It was slow work making their way back through the confused mass, but Rachel was lucky enough to sleep through most of it. When she awoke the next morning the wagon was still on the pike, but in the center of the army, which filled all the open space round-about.
Everywhere were evidences of the terrible work of the day before, and of preparations for renewing it. The soldiers, utterly exhausted by the previous days' frightful strain, lay around on the naked ground, sleeping, or in a half-waking torpor.
An officer rode up to the wagon. “There seems to be some flour on this wagon,” said the voice of Dr. Denslow. “Well, that may stay the boys' stomachs until we can get something better. Go on a little ways, driver.”
“O, Doctor Denslow,” called out Rachel, as the wagon stopped again, “what is the news?”