and I had promised to join him
in an attempt to escape when he could secure a pair of shoes. On
November 29 our mess had felled a big pine-tree and had rolled into camp
a short section of the trunk, which a Tennessee officer was to split
into shingles to complete our hut, a pretty good cabin with an earthen
fireplace. While we were resting from our exertion, Sill appeared with
his friend Lieutenant A.T. Lamson of the 104th New York Infantry, and
reminded me of my promise. The prisoners always respected their parole
on wood-chopping expeditions, and went out and came in at the main
entrance. The guards were a particularly verdant body of back-country
militia, and the confusion of the parole system enabled us to practise
ruses. In our present difficulty we resorted to a new expedient and
forged a parole. The next day all three of us were quietly walking down
the guard-line on the outside. At the creek, where all the camp came for
water, we found Dorr and Byers and West, and calling to one of them in
the presence of the guard, asked for blankets to bring in spruce boughs
for beds. When the blankets came they contained certain haversacks,
cups, and little indispensable articles for the road. Falling back into
the woods, we secured a safe hiding-place until after dark. Just beyond
the village of Lexington we successfully evaded the first picket, being
warned of its presence by the smoldering embers in the road. A few
nights after this, having exposed ourselves and anticipating pursuit, we
pushed on until we came to a stream crossing the road. Up this we waded
for some distance, and secured a hiding-place on a neighboring hill. In
the morning we looked out upon mounted men and dogs, at the very point
where we had entered the stream, searching for our lost trail. We spent
two days during a severe storm of rain and sleet in a farm-barn where
the slaves were so drunk on applejack that they had forgotten us and
left us with nothing to eat but raw turnips. One night, in our search
for provisions, we met a party of negroes burning charcoal, who took us
to their camp and sent out for a supply of food. While waiting a
venerable "uncle" proposed to hold a prayer-meeting. So under the tall
trees and by the light of the smoldering coal-pits the old man prayed
long and fervently to the "bressed Lord and Massa Lincoln," and hearty
amens echoed through the woods. Besides a few small potatoes, one dried
goat ham was all our zealous friends c