They were at least a half hour in
passing. At last the main regiment had all passed, and I saw the rear
guard about to pass, when I heard the captain say, "Go and look in that
old house." Three fellows detached themselves from the command and came
dashing up to the old house. I thought, "Gone up, sure," as I was afraid
the Yankee prisoner would make his presence known. When the three men
came up, they pushed open the door and looked around, and one fellow said
"Booh!" They then rode off. But that "Booh!" I was sure I was caught,
but I was not.
"WHAT IS THIS REBEL DOING HERE?"
I would go up to the Yankee outpost, and if some popinjay of a tacky
officer didn't come along, we would have a good time. One morning I was
sitting down to eat a good breakfast with the Yankee outpost. They were
cavalry, and they were mighty clever and pleasant fellows. I looked down
the road toward Atlanta, and not fifty yards from the outpost, I saw a
body of infantry approaching. I don't know why I didn't run. I ought
to have done so, but didn't. I stayed there until this body of infantry
came up. They had come to relieve the cavalry. It was a detail of negro
soldiers, headed by the meanest looking white man as their captain,
I ever saw.
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