Carolina, Colonel Jones, were marched about eighteen miles. We
were well treated by officers and men, and so far as my own observation
went, no insults or indignities were suffered by any. I marched all day at
the head of the column, which I preferred to do, as it is much easier to
march at the head than the rear, in dusty roads. As a specimen of Colonel
Jones' treatment to me, I will state that at the end of the first days
march, when we were halted to go into camp, he rode up to me and handing
me a pint flask filled with captured commissary, told me to take a drink
and pass it down the line as far as it would go, which I don't think was
very far if all took as big a drink as I did. Being a cavalry officer and
unused to marching, I was very tired with the long tramp and the last few
days of hard service, and imagined I could see a look of envy on the faces
of some of those farther down the line, as I held my breath on that
bottle.

As we were making camp, Capt. Hock and myself went into the woods, on the
opposite side of the road, ostensibly to gather some dry limbs with which
to cook our coffee, but really in the hope of getting outside of the guard
and sneaking off. We walked along, picking up sticks, and had as we
supposed, got beyond the line, and were just discussing our chances, when
we were ordered back into camp by one of the Johnnies who was still
outside of us, so we took our wood and went into camp, cooked our coffee,
rolled ourselves up in our blankets and slept as only tired soldiers can
sleep.

Among those whom I had learned to rely upon as truly loyal and counted as
my friends, were Captain Wynn, who lived near our vidette picket post, and
a lawyer named Jones, who frequently visited me in my quarters. I also had
a guide named Wynn, a relative of the captain, who had been with me on a
good many expeditions, and another named Modlin, who had done me much
service in giving information from outside our lines, and who had finally
moved his family inside the lines for better protection. These two guides
I furnished with our cavalry uniform and passed them as part of our
detachment.

On our third day's march however, they were spotted as "Buffalos" by some
of their North Carolina friends and concluded that the only way to save
their necks was to escape, which they both did and reached our lines at
Newburn.

The next day, April 22, we broke camp at 6 a. m., and marched to
Williamstown, passing through Fost