owing with a mule. I made a break for him, and the rest of that
march I rode. No one objected, but the boys shouted as I made my
appearance on the mule; a mile or two further along we sighted a
farm-house. I drew reins on my mule and made for the house; I made the
boys glad on my return, for I secured a demijohn of applejack, a big
bundle of tobacco, and a box of eggs. That successful raid gave me
courage, and I began to think that was what I was destined for, and I
liked it first-rate, for it was a pleasure to me to see those poor, hungry
boys have any delicacy, or even enough of ordinary food.

That night we had to halt, for the rebs had burned the bridge, and we had
to wait for pontoons. The boys were tired and hungry. A guard was posted
to prevent any foraging, but I was a privileged character, and I bolted
through the lines. I had seen some pigs and calves scamper into the swamp
about half a mile back from where we halted, and thinking a bit of fresh
meat would be nice for the boys, I determined to have some. Cautiously I
stole away, till I arrived at the edge of the swamp; and such a jungle! It
was almost impossible to penetrate it, so I skirted the edge, hoping to
see a pig emerge. After tramping an hour I was rewarded by seeing a calf.
I drew my revolver, sneaked up and fired at poor bossy. It dropped--I was
a good shot--but when I reached the poor beast I found it was as poor as a
rail and covered with sores as big as my hand. I was disappointed, but cut
off as much as I could that was not sore, and took it to camp. We put the
kettles on the fires in short order, and my brother's company had fresh
meat broth--the first fresh meat in a month--and I tell you it was good,
even if it had been sore. After that episode Company H claimed me and
dubbed me their mascot. I accepted the position, and from that time forth
I devoted my time to foraging, stealing anything I could for my company,
and I doubt if there was a company in the whole army that fared better
than ours, for I was always successful in my expeditions.

After a long, tedious march across pontoons, over corduroy roads, we
confronted the Johnnies at "Cold Harbor." It was here that I found myself
in a real, genuine battle. I got lost in the scuffle. I found myself
amidst bursting shell and under heavy musketry fire. I was bewildered and
frightened. I did not know which way to go. I ran this way and that,
trying to find my brother and regiment. Every turn I ma