y near my vital parts. But a new danger
presented itself. We were rapidly approaching the corporal and his men,
with whose command I belonged, and they would wake up and think the
whole Confederate army was charging them, and if I was not killed by the
confounded rebel behind me, I should probably be shot all to pieces by
our own men. As we passed our men they fired a few sleepy shots towards
us, and took to the woods. On went the two night riders, and when the
rebel had exhausted his revolver he began to urge his horse, and passed
me, and I drew my revolver and began to fire at him. As we passed the
judge's stand the second time a couple of shots from quite a distance in
the woods showed that his rebel friends had taken alarm at the frequent
charges of cavalry, and had skipped to the woods and were getting away
as fast as possible. We went around the track once more, and when near
the judge's stand I was right behind him, and his horse fell down and
my horse stumbled over him, and I guess we were both stunned. Finally I
crawled out from under my horse, and the rebel was trying to raise up,
when I said, "What in thunder you want to chase a man all around the
Southern Confederacy for, on a dark night, trying to shoot him?" He asked
me to help him up, which I did, when he said, "Who commenced this here
chasing? If you had kept whar you was, I wouldn't a had no truck with
you." Then I said, "You are my prisoner," and he said, "No, you are my
prisoner." I told him I was no hand to argue, but it seemed to me it was
about a stand off, as to which was 'tother's prisoner. I told him that
was my first day's service as a soldier, and I was not posted as to the
customs of civilized warfare, but I was willing to wait till daylight,
leaving matters just as they were, each of us on the defensive, giving
up none of our rights, and after daylight we would play a game of
seven-up to see which was the prisoner. That seemed fair to him, and he
accepted the situation, remarking that he had only been conscripted a
few days and didn't know any more about war than a cow. He said he was
a newspaper man from Georgia, and had been taken right from the case in
his office before his paper could be got out. I told him I was only a
few days out of a country printing office my-self, the sheriff having
closed out my business on an old paper bill. A bond of sympathy was
inaugurated at once between us, and when he limped along the track to
the fence, and