We had traveled twenty miles, and had stopped for the night in a dense forest, several miles from any house. In all directions from our hiding-place the ground was deeply marked by narrow paths made by deer going back and forth for water. We made our supper on the supplies brought from Mrs. Mann's. We were in a place where we would not be likely to be seen, and we kept our fire burning until late in the night. Being surrounded by dense and darkening woods, with nothing to break the almost perfect stillness of the night but the murmurs of the little brook near us, we felt very lonely, more so than we had felt before on our travels. By ten o'clock we were soundly sleeping.
We awoke at the break of day on the morning of March 19th. We breakfasted early and were on the way by sunrise. We had only to follow down Cherry Run to its mouth at Cranberry Creek, and then follow down Cranberry Creek until we came to a road crossing it and running on its west side to Gauley River. The ford on Cranberry Creek was reached before three o'clock in the evening. We secreted ourselves in the woods south of the road and east of the creek until after dark, when we could travel the road in safety. The greater part of the evening was passed in sleep. On waking we snatched a hasty meal, and made ready for further travels. Soon after dark we were on the way. In due time we were wading Cranberry Creek at the ford, having first taken off our shoes and socks. We found the water very cool, and a little more than ankle deep. As soon as we got on our socks and shoes we set out on the road for Gauley River. The road led to a ferry on the Gauley, near the mouth of Cranberry Creek. It lacked nearly two hours of daylight when we reached the ferry. We went up Gauley River until we came to Cranberry Creek. We then partially stripped ourselves and waded Cranberry Creek to its east side. We found the water much deeper and the current stronger than when we had crossed it early in the night.
After dressing ourselves, we went on up the river nearly a mile further, and halted in the woods to await the dawn of day. We had not long to wait. As soon as we could see our way we started on up the river. Soon we noticed a smoke over the river, rising through the woods, and a few more steps brought us to a point from which a house could be seen. We gave two or three loud hallooes, and a man came out of the house and toward the river. A few moments more and he was in his canoe and half across the stream. As he neared the shore on which we stood we asked, "Are you a brother-in-law to Alderman?" He said he was, and we exclaimed, "All's right," with feelings of exultation. We were soon set across, and the sun was just rising when we sat down to breakfast.
After breakfast we went to the woods north of the house and hid away for the day, March 20th. At noon we returned to the house for dinner. Our host stood in the yard while we were eating, to notify us of the approach of any one, so we might slip into the brush adjoining the yard and hide. We were not molested, however, and after making arrangements with our host—whose name we can not now recall—to furnish us at our hiding-place enough food for two or three meals, we left the house. Just at sunset, according to arrangement, we received supplies. Our host informed us that his house was forty-eight miles east of Gauley Bridge, and twelve miles from Summerville, the county seat of Nicholas county. We were also told that the road leading from the ferry ran down Gauley River, through Summerville, and by the Twenty Mile House, to Gauley Bridge, where the nearest Union pickets were posted. Our things having been put in readiness, we started out just at dark on our travels. In a half hour's time we were upon the road, and making reasonable progress in a western direction.
A little after midnight we reached the suburbs of Summerville. No lights were anywhere to be seen. Every thing was still. We stopped and listened carefully for a few moments, when, hearing nothing, we advanced briskly through the town on the main road. We kept a keen lookout on either side of us as we passed through the place. The town seemed fully half burnt down. On reaching its western borders we again halted and listened, but all was quiet as before. We supposed the place might be, at least, a harboring place for scouts. On starting we pushed forward rapidly, traveling four miles, if not more, by day-break. During the last hours of the night the weather was quite cold, and the early morning was frosty.
At daylight, on the morning of the 21st, the road was leading us through an open country. Ahead of us, over a half mile distant, were woods, through which the road passed. We intended halting for the day as soon as we gained the shelter of the woods, and we pushed on briskly. Just ahead of us, inside an inclosure and beyond a turn of the road, were a few scattering trees. Among the trees were two or three hay-stacks. After getting around the turn of the road, and just as we were leaving the stacks in our rear, we discovered an aged man pitching hay to his sheep. As he was staring at us, we accosted him with, "How are you, old fellow?" The old gentleman was an Irishman, and it was only with close attention we could understand what he said. We luckily found him strong in his attachment to the Union, and too old, as he said, to change his principles. He evinced much interest in our welfare, and readily answered all our inquiries. He told us it was only twenty-eight and a half miles to Gauley Bridge, and that Captain Ramsey's Union Scouts were patrolling the country between that place and Summerville on both sides of Gauley River. He assured us it would be perfectly safe to travel the road that day provided we did not stop short of the pickets at night. Rebel citizens would make no attempt to capture us in day-time, we were told, but should they see us hiding for the night they would most likely collect a party and take us prisoners. We decided, after consulting briefly, to push on, at least to the woods, now only a quarter of a mile distant. As we started the old man said, "Go on to the bridge, boys, and you'll be safe; don't stop outside the pickets." We did not suspect the old man of intending to get us into trouble, and his last injunction fully established our faith in his Unionism.
On reaching the woods we stepped aside from the road to consider further upon the propriety of going on. We dreaded to be retaken on the eve of entering the lines, and we determined to avoid such a calamity, if possible. We had twenty-eight miles to travel before our safety would be assured. Since we had already traveled twenty miles without rest or sleep, the question was, Can we reach the picket-post by dark? Our resolution to push on, and reach the goal for which we had been so long striving, was soon formed. We immediately started, and in little more than a half hour's time we came to a house on our right. As it was near the road we went to it and asked for breakfast, thinking we needed something in addition to what we had to strengthen us in view of the journey to be accomplished that day. We were denied breakfast at first, and had started away from the house. As we were passing out the gate one of our party observed, "That's a pretty way to treat prisoners that's been half starved." The old lady overheard the remark and called us back. She first assured herself we were escaping prisoners, and then set before us what she had cooked. She apologized for refusing at first to give us a breakfast, saying she thought we were some of the scouts from Gauley Bridge, who too frequently applied for meals. We were informed it was not uncommon to see "blue coats" passing, which caused us to feel less uneasiness, as we thought we should not be molested on our way.
On finishing our breakfast we set out again, having only five miles to travel before reaching the Twenty Mile House. We arrived at the place by ten o'clock. We called at the principal house and left the letter we had brought from Greenbrier county. The lady to whom it was addressed happened to be in the house, and was exceedingly well pleased to receive it. Many questions were asked us concerning the affairs and people in Greenbrier county, but as our information was limited we could answer but few of them. After learning the time of day and receiving a biscuit apiece, we went on our way. We had eight hours or more in which to travel twenty miles, and we pressed on with exultant hopes. The soles of our shoes had worn considerably, and were too thin to afford adequate protection to our feet in walking over a stony road. As a consequence our feet became very sore. Smith once concluded he would be obliged to stop, and more than once fell far behind. On coming to a stream of water, Sutherland, Wood, and I, while waiting for Smith to catch up, removed our shoes and socks from our feet and waded it. We found the cold water improved our feet wonderfully. Smith soon came up in any thing but a pleasant mood, and was much disheartened besides. He thought we "must be in a hurry, keeping so far ahead all the time." We answered we were in no hurry, and Wood added, "We had forgot a cavalry-man couldn't stand marching." We told Smith to pull off his shoes and socks and wade the stream. He complied, but his feet were so very sore he occupied several minutes in crossing.
"Out of the Woods."—Page 107.