dead of winter was my intense longing to see my wife and children in
Iowa, who did not know whether I was alive or dead, and had not known
since my capture on the 25th of the previous April, and that, after
seeing them, I expected to return to my regiment and remain until the
war ended, if I was not sooner killed. Keeping up this line of
conversation, I completely magnetized the ferryman, either by my nerve
or the apparent confidence I had in his disposition to let his humanity
instead of war's inhumanity control his actions.

The first words uttered by him were:

"Well, all I ask is for you to pay your fare and take your chances. The
boat is loaded at each trip, and you may be suspected by the passengers.
The fare is five dollars in Confederate, or a dollar and a-half in
Federal money."

After he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to agree to this,
I told him that I had two companions with me, when he exclaimed:

"Oh, h----l But d----d if I don't help you fellows anyhow. I can't
understand why I agreed to help you, for I'm as rank a rebel as they
make, and if I am caught at it, and you give me away, I'll be shot, sure
as h----l."

I promptly declared that I would submit to being hung myself before I
would give him away, and this seemed fully to reconcile him to his
undertaking, for he replied:

"D----d if I don't believe you, young man."

We had but $4 in greenbacks, which I told him, together with the fact
that we wanted some bread, and we compromised by my giving him $3 for
our fare across the river and $1 for a supply of corn bread.

He would not make a special trip that night, as it might get him into
trouble if we were discovered, but he agreed to put us over the river in
the morning, do the best he could for us, and keep his mouth shut about
us.

I returned to my companions to report progress, and it would have been
hard to find two happier men than Rummel and Miller; they were simply
delighted with the result of my mission.

After a meal upon the corn bread bought from the ferryman, we turned in
for the night.

CHAPTER XVI.

MAKING PROGRESS.

At an early hour the next morning we were on hand at the boatman's
house.

When we reached the boat we found our friend with the wagon and negro
driver, together with several other parties, already there, and I was
much relieved to see that the three soldiers had not arrived.

The ferryman told us to go to the bow of the boat and avoid