ssee Cavalry, and as good a man and as clever a person as I ever
knew. None knew him but to love him. I was told that he was killed by
a lot of Yankee soldiers after he had surrendered to them, all the time
begging for his life, asking them please not kill him. But He that
noteth the sparrow's fall doeth all things well. Not one ever falls to
the ground with His consent.

CHAPTER VI

MURFREESBORO

We came from Knoxville to Chattanooga, and seemed destined to make a
permanent stay here. We remained several months, but soon we were on the
tramp again.

From Chattanooga, Bragg's army went to Murfreesboro.

The Federal army was concentrating at Nashville. There was no rest for
the weary. Marches and battles were the order of the day.

Our army stopped at Murfreesboro. Our advanced outpost was established
at Lavergne. From time to time different regiments were sent forward
to do picket duty. I was on picket at the time the advance was made by
Rosecrans. At the time mentioned, I was standing about two hundred yards
off the road, the main body of the pickets being on the Nashville and
Murfreesboro turnpike, and commanded by Lieutenant Hardy Murfree, of the
Rutherford Rifles.

I had orders to allow no one to pass. In fact, no one was expected to
pass at this point, but while standing at my post, a horseman rode up
behind me. I halted him, and told him to go down to the main picket on
the road and pass, but he seemed so smiling that I thought he knew me,
or had a good joke to tell me. He advanced up, and pulling a piece of
paper out of his pocket, handed it to me to read. It was an order from
General Leonidas Polk to allow the bearer to pass. I read it, and looked
up to hand it back to him, when I discovered that he had a pistol cocked
and leveled in my face, and says he, "Drop that gun; you are my prisoner."
I saw there was no use in fooling about it. I knew if I resisted he
would shoot me, and I thought then that he was about to perform that
detestable operation. I dropped the gun.

I did not wish to spend my winter in a Northern prison, and what was
worse, I would be called a deserter from my post of duty.

The Yankee picket lines were not a half mile off. I was perfectly
willing to let the spy go on his way rejoicing--for such he was--but he
wanted to capture a Rebel.

And I had made up my mind to think likewise. There I was, a prisoner
sure, and no mistake about it.

His pistol was