One of the Rebs then yelled to us,
"Hey, you Yanks, if you don't come over here I will send the dogs after you, and they will tear you to pieces."
We lay perfectly still. Another of the Rebs said,
"I know them Yanks are over there. Don't you see how the cane is parted where they waded or swam over?"
"I tell you what," said another; "I will get astraddle of a log and take the dogs over there."
As he was getting off his horse we heard firing in the distance and the howls of more dogs. The rebels mounted their horses and started for the place where the firing seemed to be. We then jumped up and went around on the other side of the island, where we found a small shanty that had been built by some runaway negro before the war. One of the men, who had been looking around, came running up and said that there was a dugout hidden in the brush. To get it into the water was the work of a minute. It was badly sun-cracked, and leaked, but held us all. Two of us pushed with sticks while the third baled her out with a gourd which we found in the boat. We pushed her along in this manner the rest of the day, and always managed to keep her under the over-hanging trees, where we would not likely be discovered.
It was now getting dark, and the swamp was narrowing down and the banks were getting higher. It looked more like a river than a swamp.
"Hark! what is that? Don't you think it is some one chopping?"
"You bet it am. Pull in and we will see."
We pulled in, and climbing out as carefully as I could so as not to make any noise, I stepped along from tree to tree until I got close up to the chopper. It was a negro chopping wood in front of a cabin. A large negro woman stood in the door, and said to him, "Now, Jake, if you want any supper you want to hurry up and chop dat wood."