Tom was so sincere, and looked so serious—which was not common with him—that I told him I never would harm one of them, if I knew it, unless it was in self-defense.
We now thought it best to make our way back to Arkansas. We passed through Farmington and Fredericktown on the following night, and then camped in the woods until evening. We started before night, in order to capture some fresh horses.
Dressed in Federal uniforms, we were riding along the road in Madison county, when on passing a farm, I saw a fine looking horse in a lot near the house. I halted my men, dismounted and went up to the horse to catch him, but he was a little shy, and kept his head as far from me as possible.
While I was thus trying to get a halter on the spirited animal, a woman stepped onto the porch and bawled out:
“See here! What are you trying to do?”
“I‘m trying to catch this horse.”
“Let him alone, you good-for-nothing! Don‘t you look pretty, you miserable scamp, trying to steal my only horse?”
“Yes, madam, but I‘m afraid you are a rebel.”
“I am a rebel, sir, and I‘m proud of it! I have two sons in the rebel army, and if I had six more they should all be in it. You white-livered, insignificant scum of creation! you had better let him alone. Why, you are worse than Sam Hildebrand! He wouldn‘t take the last horse from a poor widow woman!”
By this time I had caught the horse, but as soon as the woman made that last remark, I pulled the halter off, begged her pardon and left.