them, and one of them got close enough to murmur:

"Go it, Yank! Give him h----l!"

The man finally rode off, and I forgot all about the matter, until at
noon, when we halted, and one of my fellow-captains came up to me, in a
flutter of excitement, and gave me the pleasant intelligence that he had
heard them talking of hanging me to the next tree. I did not believe it,
and, as the next tree was out of sight ahead, my reception of the
information was of a careless nature. It turned out later that the
doctor had demanded that I should be hung as one of the blackest-hearted
villains he had ever heard talk, and that an investigation had caused
him to be sent about his business. This is mentioned as an illustration
of the fact that our guards were not looking for chances to shoot
prisoners.

We finally reached the Red river, on the bank of which we stood in the
rain for over two hours before we were ferried across, and marched
through the main street of Shreveport on an old plank road. The whole
town turned out to see us, but we were a hard-looking crowd to put on
exhibition, yet they halted us for a much longer time than was
desirable, while the citizens satisfied their curiosity about Yankee
prisoners.

Here I met a rebel major, Lazwell, _from Iowa_.

After our inspection by the natives we were marched beyond the town to a
place called Four Mile Springs, where we camped for the night in the
rain, and rested as well as we could upon the soil of white clay, which
ornamented our persons and showed many evidences of attachment.

When we again started it was with the knowledge that our destination was
a stockade at Tyler, Texas, and all hopes vanished save those based upon
the prospect of a long imprisonment.

During the march all our boys were constantly regretting that we had
made no attempt to escape, and calling themselves idiots for being
hoodwinked by the clever Colonel Hill and his talk of parole.

To show the current ideas of Confederate money it will be appropriate to
relate an incident of this journey to Tyler:

One day, while we were halted for rest and water, two rebel officers
commenced to talk "hoss swap." After each had made a careful examination
of the other's horse, one said: "Well, Captain, you'll have to boot me."
"All right, Kunnel," said the captain; "how much do you want?" The
"kunnel's" answer made me gasp for breath. "Give me a thousand dollars,
Captain, and it's a go." "No, that's too much,"