I was a little confused in my ideas for a while, but I had sense enough to crawl up out of the deep water; as I stood there with my dripping clothes I heard some of the soldiers coming down the hill toward me; so I crossed the creek and took up the hill on the other side. I was now completely out of their clutches and could easily have made my escape; but I had left my gun in the deep hole, and the thought of leaving “Kill-devil” in that predicament was more than I could bear.
In a few minutes the soldiers left and went back up the hill. I now slipped back cautiously and got into the water to recover my gun. The water was deep and cold; however, I waded in nearly up to my chin and felt around with my feet for the gun. I got my foot under it finally and raised it up; but I had no sooner got it into my hands than I saw five or six soldiers returning with a light. As they were making their way down through a crevice in the bluff, some ten steps above the rock from which I had been precipitated, I had just time to wade down the creek, which was now only a few inches deep in places, and secrete myself behind a cluster of willows that hung over the edge of the steep bank about twenty yards below.
The Federals remained ten or fifteen minutes, walking around my dead horse, and around the hole of water. They threw the glare of their lantern in every direction, and though I was completely hid from their observation, I must acknowledge that as I stood there in the water, shivering with cold, holding my dripping gun, I felt more like anything else in the world than a major. Finally they struck the trail that I had made up the hill with my dripping clothes and each one of them went in pursuit.
Taking this opportunity I slowly left my retreat and waded down the creek for a long distance. I climbed up the hill on the same side on which the Federals were camped; I made a wide circuit around them and came into the road, some four or five miles ahead. I walked rapidly to keep myself warm, and just before the break of day I arrived at the house of a friend, wet, hungry, and on foot. I was soon supplied with everything I wanted; my gun was well attended to, and when morning came “Kill-devil” looked rather brighter than usual.
I started on in the direction of Fredericktown and fell in with twenty-five Rebel boys, commanded by Lieut. Childs, who asked me to take command of his men and give the Federals a “whack” at Bollinger‘s Mill, on Castor creek.
That locality for some time had been a place of rendezvous for Southern recruits; that fact being well-known, the Federals concluded to station some men there. They were known to be about one hundred and fifty strong, but I consented on condition that his men all take an oath never to surrender under any circumstances. After the oath was administered we marched to the place above mentioned, arriving there about eleven o‘clock at night, on the 4th of February. We succeeded in capturing their pickets, made a charge on their camp, fought them for about five minutes (or until they got ready to fight); killed twenty-two of their number as we were informed afterwards, and at the word we marched out on double-quick time. We took four prisoners with us and got some important information from them, but finding that they were not McNeal‘s men we released them all.
We lost one man killed, Henry Resinger, and three badly wounded, who recovered.
We carried the wounded with us in our retreat, and at daylight we all started for Mingo Swamp.
The Federals followed us, and as our march was retarded by our wounded; they made their way around and charged us, striking our columns at right angles, they divided our line-cutting off seven of my men, whom they took prisoners.
In this little skirmish I lost one man, and killed three of the Federals, at which they left our trail and permitted us to make our way to St. Francis river, which we were compelled to swim.