We were near the foot of the Cumberland Mountains, and addressed ourselves to the task of crossing them. Just as we were mounting the first spur, we fell in with a Confederate soldier, who was at home on a furlough. He had been in a number of battles, and among others the first Manassas, which he described very minutely to me. Little did he think that I, too, had been there, as we laughed together at the wild panic of the Yankees. He was greatly delighted to see so many Kentuckians coming out on the right side, and contrasted our noble conduct with that of some persons of his own neighborhood, who still sympathized with the Abolitionists.
When we parted, he grasped my hand with tears in his eyes, and said he hoped "the time would soon come when we would be comrades, fighting side by side in one glorious cause." My heart revolted from the hypocrisy I was compelled to use; but having commenced, there was no possibility of turning back.
On we clambered up the mountain till the top was reached; then across the summit, which was a tolerably level road for six miles; then down again, over steep rocks, yawning chasms, and great gullies; a road that none but East Tennesseeans or soldier Yankees could have traveled at all. This rough jaunt led us down into Battle Creek, which is a delightful, picturesque valley, hemmed in by projecting ridges of lofty mountains.
While here, they told me how this valley obtained its name, which is certainly a very romantic legend, and no doubt true.
In early times there was war among the Indians. One tribe made a plundering expedition into the camp of another, and after securing their booty retreated. Of course they were pursued, and in their flight were traced to this valley. There the pursuers believed them to be concealed, and to make their capture sure, divided their force into two bands, each one taking an opposite side of the valley.
It was early in the morning, and as they wended their way cautiously onward, the mountain mist came down just as I had seen it descend that morning, and enveloped each of the parties in its folds. Determined not to be foiled, they marched on, and meeting at the head of the valley, each supposed the other to be the enemy. They poured in their fire, and a deadly conflict ensued. Not till nearly all their number had fallen did the survivors discover their mistake, and they slowly and sorrowfully returned to their wigwams. The plunderers, who had listened to their conflict in safety, being further up the mountains, were thus left to carry home their booty in triumph.
But we had no leisure for legendary tales.
The sun had set, and we stopped for the night with a rabid Secessionist, whom our soldier-friend on the mountain had recommended to us. He received us with open arms, shared with us the best his house afforded—giving us his bedroom, and sleeping with his family in the kitchen. We spent the evening in denouncing the Abolitionists, which term was used indiscriminately to designate all Federals who did not advocate the acknowledgment of the Confederacy. This did not go quite so hard as it did at first, for practice had rendered it nearly as easy for us to falsify our sentiments as to express them plainly.
Among other things we instanced to show the tyranny of the Lincolnites in Kentucky, was the expatriation law. This law provides that all persons aiding or abetting the rebels, or leaving the State and going South with their army, shall be expatriated, and lose all their right of citizenship in the State. The old man thought this was an act of unparalleled oppression; and in the morning, before I was out of bed, came in the room, and desired that some one of us would write that law down, that he might show his Union neighbors what the Yankees would do when they had the sway. I wrote it, and we all afterward signed our names to it. No doubt that document has been the theme of many angry discussions.
So thoroughly did we deceive the old man, that when, three days after, the railroad adventure fell on the astonished Confederates like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky, he would not believe that we were part of the men engaged in it. One of his neighbors, who was a Union man, and was arrested and confined in the same prison with us, told us that to the last our host maintained that his guests, at least, were true and loyal Southerners. Should I ever again be in that part of the country, I would delight to call on him in my true character, and talk over the national troubles from another point of view.