CHAPTER XIX.

GOOD LUCK AND BAD.

We were soon out of the river bottom, and then came the question as to whether we should keep or avoid the road. We decided to remain upon it, because of the fact that the ferryman would probably ask the first comer if he had met us, and a negative reply might cause questions and suspicions; so we trudged along, in hopes of a successful issue to our campaign.

Soon we saw an approaching horseman, and again our friend Miller became agitated. When a nearer view developed the fact that the rider was a rebel officer, we had hard work to keep Miller from throwing up his hands or running, we being entirely unarmed, but he calmed down and behaved nicely as the officer rode up and we saw that he was a major.

We saluted, said good morning, and passed on in a matter-of-fact way, while the officer gave us scarcely a look as he returned our salute and rode by; so Miller had a respite.

Having thus met somebody to report us at the ferry, we now left the road and went into the woods to lay up, taking pains to go a good mile from the road in order to avoid any possible notice.

Finding a good, thick top of a felled tree, we sought the seclusion of its branches and indulged in a good sleep.

We were awakened along in the afternoon by a crunching sound like that of horses walking on gravel, and, when we realized what it was, the horses were so close to us that we fairly hugged the ground and trembled, feeling that it must be some people looking for us.

The sound passing by, we got out to investigate, and we had not gone fifteen paces through some bushes till we stopped and looked at each other quizzically. There was another road, evidently more traveled than the one we had taken such pains to avoid. As the joke was on all, we had nothing to say.

We were now out of provisions again, and, in prospecting around, we found that the two roads came together a short distance below.

The country in our neighborhood was a farming district, but it was now barren. The houses and buildings were deserted, the fences down and everything dilapidated. We could find nothing to eat, and again took to the road.

To show how run down and deserted that section was I state as a fact that we ransacked every stable, corn crib and vacant house in our path that night for a distance of about fifteen miles without seeing a soul or finding anything eatable. But few houses appeared to be inhabited, and these were avoided.

Just before daybreak we came across an old stable, where we found some corn in the mangers--that is, the small kernels left on the ends of the cobs by horses when they eat. Of this we made a fairly good meal.

A little farther on we came to a corn crib which had in it about 150 bushels of corn, and here we had a feast, building a fire and parching the corn.

While we were eating we saw a cow coming toward the corn crib, and we welcomed her heartily, giving her some corn shucks to feed upon while we milked her and regaled ourselves.

We now proceeded with little or no trouble, making far better time than we had expected to make, and we felt almost as if at home when we came to a finger-board bearing the inscription: "2-1/2 miles to Arkadelphia."

I had been in this place with our army on our way to Camden the spring before, and it now seemed as if we must soon meet some blue uniforms.

We passed on around the town to the Caddo river, which empties into the Washita four miles above Arkadelphia.

When we reached the river there were no signs of a ferry, and we walked up and down the river bank for about two miles each way before we found any chance to cross. There seemed to be no ferry, and the chance of crossing was based solely upon the fact that we finally discovered a house on the farther bank, and a skiff tied to a tree near by.

We built our hopes on that skiff, but there was no way to get it at present, and we decided to drop down the river to a secluded place in the bottom and await developments.

Finding the desired place, we went into camp, building a fire, parching some corn, warming up well and getting a good sleep.

In the morning we again went over the ground, but found no better chance to cross, concluding that the owner of the skiff must be the ferryman.

We could not build a raft, as there were no logs lying about which were suitable for the purpose. The river was too deep to wade, and the water was so cold that we were afraid to risk an effort to swim over, especially on account of Miller's aversion to the element, and the necessity of towing him over on a log if we tried this method of crossing; so, after sizing up the situation in all its aspects, we decided to keep quiet until about sundown and then go boldly down to the water's edge at the road and hail the ferryman, taking our chances of results.

Accordingly we again sought our hiding place, and passed the day in sleeping and conversation, neither hearing nor seeing anything throughout the day.

At the proper time we emerged boldly from our secluded nook and sought the road, without any attempt at secrecy, having been all over the ground both in the morning and the night before, and having heard nothing since.

A short distance from the road we saw a man on the river bank, and kept right on, taking him to be some stray individual looking for a chance to cross the river, but we had not gone twenty paces after seeing him until we walked right into a picket post of nine men, or, rather, right into plain view of them, they being about fifty yards distant.

There was no help for it but to put on a bold front, and we walked right along about our business. Seeing them watching us, I broke the silence by addressing them and asking the way to the ferry.

They answered, and asked where we were going, to which I responded by saying that we had been hunting for the ferry for an hour or more and were going to cross, walking along in a business-like manner while talking.

The corporal in charge of the picket guard now called to us to come into camp, but we did not hear him, and kept on without hurrying. Then we got a peremptory order in a tone which meant business, and we concluded instantaneously to hear and heed this; so we stopped and asked what they wanted, and walked slowly into camp when the corporal repeated his order, remonstrating against the delay as we did so.

Miller was now so nervous that he scarcely knew on which end he stood, but he quieted down in appearance when I asked him to keep cool, let me do the talking, and back me up.

We were now asked to show our papers, but we had none to show, and by rapid questioning I learned that these men had been guarding the river at this point for some time, but had left the river bank for better quarters when the high water came, and had just camped again when we came up.

Asking the corporal his name, I learned that it was Ed. Rocket, and I then told him that we lived in Rockport, Hot Springs county, and were going home, being soldiers in Captain Stewart's Company A, of the 15th Arkansas, and having come from Magruder's headquarters at Washington.

He then asked for our passes, and I told him that he was too old a soldier not to know that we could not possibly have a pass, it being all that a captain's commission was worth to give leave of absence in those days, stating to him, in explanation of our absence from our command, that we had been in service for over two years without any leave; that when we had begged our captain to let us go home when it was so close he had told us that we could simply slip off, if we would promise to be back in ten days, and he would not report us absent unless that time elapsed before our return, and that we had taken chances on his word, because we wanted to get home so badly.

This seemed to satisfy Rocket that it was all right, and he hesitated for a few minutes before he answered that he would gladly let us go on, but that his orders were positive to let _nobody_ cross the river without a pass or proper papers.

I again remonstrated at the delay and annoyance, and he sympathized with us, but was firm in his unwillingness to disobey positive orders which left no discretion. He finally said he would take us over to headquarters at Arkadelphia and do what he could to get necessary permission for us to cross the river.

There being no other course to pursue, we thanked him heartily and at once fraternized with him and his men.

They had just cooked supper, and we invited ourselves to eat with them, saying that we were almighty hungry, but that they would have to put up with it, inasmuch as we were not exactly willing guests.

We were quite hungry, and we demonstrated the fact by eating the entire quantity of food which the nine men had prepared for their meal, talking and chatting the while, with the party looking on with open-mouthed amazement at our appetites, as they waited for two of their number to prepare an additional supply, the extra quantity being increased as they proceeded, until they really cooked as much more as they had at first prepared for themselves.

Once, while we were eating, Miller inadvertently called me captain, and asked me to pass him something. Fortunately he did not speak loud, as he was close by my side, but I gave him a look which spoke volumes, and he kept silent thereafter.

After our hosts had finished their supper we started for Arkadelphia, and, while on the road, we learned that the object of guarding the river had been to catch refugee "Arkansaw" people and to head off such natives as might be en route to join the 3d and 4th Arkansas Cavalry, then being organized in Little Rock.

This was our twenty-first night out since leaving the stockade, and we were now 275 miles from Tyler, Texas, and fifty miles from Little Rock--"so near and yet so far."