stitution, and their own high ground was swept from
beneath their feet. They protested as bitterly as their foes, be it
said, against the Federals breaking up political conventions with
bayonets and against the ruin of innocent citizens for the crimes of
guerillas, for whose acts nobody was responsible, but all to no avail.
The terrorism only grew the more.

When summer came, and while Grant was bisecting the Confederacy at
Vicksburg, by opening the Mississippi, and Lee was fighting Gettysburg,
Chad, with Wolford, chased Morgan when he gathered his clans for his
last daring venture--to cross the Ohio and strike the enemy on its own
hearth-stones--and thus give him a little taste of what the South had
long known from border to border. Pursued by Federals, Morgan got
across the river, waving a farewell to his pursuing enemies on the
other bank, and struck out. Within three days, one hundred thousand men
were after him and his two thousand daredevils, cutting down trees
behind him (in case he should return!), flanking him, getting in his
front, but on he went, uncaught and spreading terror for a thousand
miles, while behind him for six hundred miles country people lined the
dusty road, singing "Rally 'round the Flag, Boys," and handing out
fried chicken and blackberry-pie to his pursuers. Men taken afterward
with typhoid fever sang that song through their delirium and tasted
fried chicken no more as long as they lived. Hemmed in as Morgan was,
he would have gotten away, but for the fact that a heavy fog made him
miss the crossing of the river, and for the further reason that the
first rise in the river in that month for twenty years made it
impossible for his command to swim. He might have fought out, but his
ammunition was gone. Many did escape, and Morgan himself could have
gotten away. Chad, himself, saw the rebel chief swimming the river on a
powerful horse, followed by a negro servant on another--saw him turn
deliberately in the middle of the stream, when it was plain that his
command could not escape, and make for the Ohio shore to share the
fortunes of his beloved officers who were left behind. Chad heard him
shout to the negro:

"Go back, you will be drowned." The negro turned his face and Chad
laughed--it was Snowball, grinning and shaking his head:

"No, Mars John, no suh!" he yelled. "It's all right fer YOU! YOU can
git a furlough, but dis nigger ain't gwine to be cotched in no free
State. 'Sides, Mars Dan, h