commented. "Hope we have some more luck like that in the next wagon,
too."

14

_Hell in Tennessee_

"At least we have that river between us now," Drew said. Behind them was
Columbia, where Forrest had bought them precious hours of traveling time
with his truce to discuss a prisoner exchange. Along the banks of the
now turbulent Duck River not a bridge or boat remained to aid their
pursuers. Buford's Scouts had had a hand in that precaution.

"Yeah, an' Forrest's waitin' for the Yankees to try an' smoke him out.
It's 'bout like puttin' your hand in a rattler's den to git him by the
tail, I'd say. But I'd feel a mite safer was theah an ocean between us.
Funny, a man is all randy with his tail up when he's doin' the chasin',
but you git mighty dry-mouthed an' spooky when the cards is slidin' the
other way 'crost the table. Seems like we has been chased back an' forth
over these heah rivers so much, they ought to know us by now. An' be a
little more obligin' an' do some partin', like in that old Bible
story--let us through on dry land. Man, how I could do with some _dry_
land!" Kirby spoke with unusual fervor.

Croff laughed. "No use hopin' for that. Anyways, we have business
ahead."

Just as they had rounded up wagons to transport the infantry between
skirmishes, so now they were on the hunt for oxen to move the guns. The
bogs--miscalled "roads" on their maps--demanded more animal power than
the worn-out horses and mules of the army could supply. Oxen had to be
impressed from the surrounding farms for use in moving the wagons and
fieldpieces relay fashion, with those teams sometimes struggling belly
deep. Having pulled one section to a point ahead, they were driven back
to bring up the rear of the train.

"Not enough ice on the ground; it's rainin' it now!" Kirby's shoulders
were hunched, his head forward between them as if, tortoisewise, he
wanted to withdraw into a nonexistent protecting shell.

"Just be glad," Drew answered, "you ain't walkin'. I saw an ox fall back
there a ways. Before it was hardly dead the men were at it, rippin' off
the hide to cover their feet--bleedin' feet!"

"Oh, I'm not complainin'," the Texan said. "M'boots still cover me,
anyway. Me, I'm thankful for what I got--can even sing 'bout it."

His soft, clear baritone caroled out:

"And now I'm headin' southward, my heart is full of woe,
I'm goin' back to Georgia to find my Uncle Joe,
You may talk about your Bea