Capt. Rankin, commanding the rear guard, not being interested in this fight, nor caring which gained the day, ordered his command forward and followed the main column, it having continued its march and being now out of sight.
The night being very dark and no road, not even a path to follow nor any mounted guide left to guide them, they worked their way over rocks and timber in the direction they supposed the column had moved, and became scattered.
And after climbing around over the rocks, amid the darkness of the night, I found myself on the highest peak of the mountain, accompanied by one man. I wandered about for some time to see if I could find any trace of the column, and found no trace and heard no human voice save the tumult at the foot of the mountain.
Inasmuch as the author did not join his command until reaching London, Ky., and nothing of interest occurring except the leaving of three hundred horses in the mountains by the command, he asks the privilege of narrating his own adventures after he became separated from the command:
I struck out in what I supposed a northerly direction and after passing over several high ridges and coming to a cliff that had to be descended, and not thinking it safe to make the trial at night, we spread our blanket down, tied our horses and went to sleep, being very much exhausted; and upon waking in the morning found the sun high up and no noise to be heard save the singing of the birds and the gnawing of my faithful horse on the trees. I at once arose and set out to find some place to make my exit, but finding no way to get my horse down this cliff other than southward, I was compelled to abandon him, a thing that gave me considerable uneasiness of mind; I hated to part with so valuable a servant that had carried me safely through the campaign of ’61, under Gen. Fremont, through Kentucky and Tennessee to Corinth, Miss., back to Ohio and through all the wanderings of the 7th O. V. C., including this masterly “raid,” being yet good in flesh and unbroken in spirit; to part with such a friend was no light affair. But with all the horrors of Libby Prison on one hand and life and liberty on the other, I was not long in making up my mind which course to pursue.
I stripped my horse of everything and bid him adieu. Taking a strap from the saddle, I buckled my blankets together, ran my saber through, threw it over my shoulder and began the descent, and upon reaching the foot found myself in a deep dell, surrounded by high peaks of craggy rocks. The timber being undergrown with laurel through which ran a brook of clear water.
After refreshing myself, I followed the course to the stream for about two miles which brought me to a stream known as Clear Fork, which I followed for a few miles, coming to a miserable old hut in which lived two old people, who had passed their four score years, and in coming up to this hovel I heard considerable talking.
I sent my companion close to the hut to eaves drop, and finding who were its occupants, when he returned he reported “all right.”
On entering the house I found ten or twelve of our own soldiers, among them a grand son of the occupants of the house.
The old man was grinding corn on a hand mill, while the old lady was baking bread and cakes for the hungry soldiers. I ate a few morsels, and during the time I explained to them my situation and where my horse had been left.