the entire force from crossing.
General Morgan had gained the middle of the river, and, having a strong
horse, could have gained the other shore without difficulty, but seeing
that the bulk of his command would be forced to remain on the Ohio side,
he returned to it. At this point, a negro boy named Box, a great
favorite in the Second Kentucky, thorough rebel and deeply impressed
with a sense of his own importance, entered the river and started
across; General Morgan called to him to return, fearing that he would be
drowned. "Marse John," said Box, "If dey catches you, dey may parole
you, but if dis nigger is cotched in a free State he ain't a gwine to
git away while de war lasts." He swam the river safely although nearly
run down by a gun boat. From this time, for six days, it was a continual
race and scramble. That men could have endured it, after the previous
exhausting marches, is almost incredible.

The brigades were reorganized. Colonel Cluke was placed in command of
the second, Major Webber of the first, each was a little more than four
hundred strong. "The bold Cluke" had need of all of his audacity and
vigor during these six days of trial. It is impossible for the reader to
appreciate the true condition in which these brave men were placed. Worn
down by tremendous and long sustained exertion, encompassed by a
multitude of foes, and fresh ones springing up in their path at every
mile, allowed no rest, but driven on night and day; attacked, harassed,
intercepted at every moment, disheartened by the disasters already
suffered--how magnificent was the nerve, energy and resolution which
enabled them to bear up against all this and struggle so gallantly to
the very last against capture. Major Webber had long been suffering from
a painful and exhausting disease, and when he started upon the raid he
could not climb into his saddle without assistance. But he could not
endure the thought of being absent from such an expedition. He was one
of the very best officers in the Confederate cavalry, and his ideas of
duty were almost fanatical. All through the long march to Buffington, he
rode at the head of the "old regulars," without a murmur escaping his
lips to tell of the pain which paled his brave, manly face, but could
not bend his erect form. Of his conduct after the Buffington disaster,
General Morgan, and his comrades spoke in enthusiastic praise--one
officer in describing his unflinching steadiness called him the "Iron