We left in the afternoon, and, taking byroads, passed Stephen Bedford's and went on to Doc Brown's on Casteel Creek. We spent the night there. Brown kept us up until midnight, asking questions about our experiences at Wilson's Creek, Fort Scott and Lexington and about the fight with Penick's men at Brother James' house. He had heard the firing although eight miles away, and suspected that some of the Gibson boys were in the fight. We started early next morning for Clay County where my sister, Mrs. Harrison Wilson, lived. We reached her home without difficulty and remained there over night. It was about fifteen miles from her home to the Missouri River where we expected to have trouble, as soldiers were on guard at every crossing point between St. Joseph and the Mississippi. If we could not find a ferry unguarded we expected to bind cottonwood logs together, get on them and swim our horses alongside. This was disagreeable and very dangerous and was not to be thought of so long as there was any chance to cross on a ferry. We decided, therefore, to go to old Richfield and try the ferry by fair means or foul. We reached the high bluff that overlooks the town, about five o'clock in the afternoon, and looked cautiously down. The soldiers were camped just below the town and the ferry landing was a little above it. Everything was quiet—no soldiers up in town or about the ferry landing that we could see. While we were watching, the ferry boat crossed to this side and landed. We rode quietly down the hill and on to the boat. Billy asked the ferryman if he was going right back. He said no, that he made regular trips. Billy asked how long before he would start. He said thirty minutes. Billy told him we could not wait that long, and that he must go back immediately. The ferryman looked up into Billy's face and said he would wait for time. In an instant he found himself looking into the muzzle of a Colt's navy. Billy told him to stand perfectly still if he valued his life. I jumped off my horse and loosed the cable that held the boat to shore. The current carried the boat out into the river and Billy told the ferryman to take charge and set us over. He did it without a word and we rode out in safety on the other shore. In all that happened on the boat, not a loud word was spoken, and, so far as I know, the soldiers did not even suspect our presence.

When we rode out on firm land on the southern side of the Missouri we felt much safer, because the task we had most dreaded was over. We passed about five miles into the country and put up for the night at a farm house where we found seven or eight southern men all on their way to the Confederate lines. Two of these were Confederate soldiers and the remainder were old men leaving home for safety. The two soldiers were John Culbertson of Buchanan County and Sol Starks of Clay County. The next morning about nine o'clock, as we rode peacefully along, two boys about twelve years of age came galloping toward us as fast as their horses could carry them. We said nothing to them and they said nothing to us, but I thought their conduct rather strange. In a few minutes they passed back, still riding very fast. Starks and I were riding in front and I told him I thought we had better stop the boys and ask them what they were up to. We galloped after them leaving the other men behind, and when we had overtaken them and inquired the cause of their fast riding, they told us there was a gang of "Jayhawkers" in the neighborhood and they (the boys) were hiding their horses. While we were talking to the boys Starks left his mule standing at the roadside and stepped aside. I also alighted from my horse. There was a short curve in the road just in front of us and while in the position I have described, Jennison's regiment came dashing around the curve and right down upon us. Starks left his mule standing in the road and ran for his life out through the timber. I jumped on my horse and took the same course. They soon overtook Starks and shot and killed him. A band of them followed me shooting and calling "halt," but I only went the faster. I had gained a little on them by the time I came to a rail fence. It looked like they had me, but I had no idea of stopping. I threw off the top rail and made my horse jump the fence into a cornfield. They were at the fence in a moment firing and calling halt. I threw myself down on my horse's side in cowboy fashion, hanging on by leg and arm and sent him at his best speed down between two rows of corn. I soon came to a road where the corn gatherers had been hauling out the corn, and finding this better traveling and thinking it might lead to an outlet from the field I took it. They were still following and shooting at me. The fence where the road entered the field was up, but I had passed over one and could pass another. I held a tight reign and forced my horse to take it. He knocked off the top rail, but landed on his feet. Outside the field a firm road led down a long slant directly away from my pursuers. This gave me an advantage and I made good use of it. The soft ground of the cornfield checked their speed and the fence halted them, I think, for I never saw them any more. When my horse reached the bottom of the slant and struck the level ground, the change of the surface threw him headlong. I went sailing in the air over beyond him carrying the bridle reins with me. Although terribly jolted I beat the horse up and was on his back the moment he could stand. I took no time to throw reins over his head, but with the rein swinging from my hand to the bit I pushed him into the brush and a half mile farther on before stopping.

My poor horse was almost dead, but as I could hear no one following me it looked like he had carried me to safety. I looked and listened intently but could neither see nor hear anyone. I got off my horse that he might get a better rest, as I did not know how soon he might have to run again, and after the first few breaths of freedom, began to think of my companions. As the main body of the regiment kept the traveled road and only a detachment followed me, it was certain that Billy and Culbertson and the old men would meet them. I feared for the result—especially to the old men. Billy and Culbertson I thought could likely take care of themselves. The point where I had stopped was at the head of a long ravine, and while standing there I saw a man approaching on horseback. I watched a moment and discovered that it was Bridgeman. We were rejoiced to see each other. Billy asked about Starks and I told him his fate. I asked how his party had fared. He said when they saw the soldiers coming he and Culbertson were in front. They fired at the soldiers and took to the brush. He had seen none of his companions since. By chance Billy had taken the same general direction that I had gone and that is how we happened to meet. We thought it almost providential.

I heard afterwards, but I cannot say as to the truth of the report, that the old gray haired men who were with us were all captured and killed. Whatever may have been their fate, we could do nothing for them against a regiment and counted ourselves more lucky than wise that we escaped with our own lives.

Billy and I remained in seclusion most of the day and then, hearing nothing of Culbertson and the old men, started on our journey. We rode leisurely along and reached Springfield without further difficulty. There we found Culbertson, waiting and looking for us. He was sly as a red fox and as hard to catch. He had gotten away from Jennison and had made better time to Springfield than we, and, as he knew our destination, waited our coming as proof that we had not been caught.

General Price was in winter quarters. We remained with our company a few weeks, and just before Christmas Billy and Jim Combs, his brother-in-law, and I got permission to spend the holidays at Granby with Jeff Whitney, Comb's step-father, who had formerly lived in Holt County. While on this visit Whitney, who was a man of considerable wealth, concluded he would move farther south in order to secure better protection for his family and property, and asked us to accompany him across the mountains as a guard. We consented to do it and made the trip with him over land to Fort Smith, where Whitney, after going just across the Arkansas line, erected a cabin in the Cherokee Nation. We remained with him about a week assisting him to get settled, when we got a letter from Colonel Gates informing us that a strong army was approaching from St. Louis and calling us back to our places in his company.

We set out for Springfield immediately and met our army as it retreated to join Van Dorn at Fayetteville. I shall always remember our meeting with this army. The ox teams were in front, four yoke to each wagon, a long string of them, winding slowly down the road. Then the mule teams, six mules to each wagon, many of them the same mules we had captured at Fort Scott. Next a regiment of soldiers, then General Price and his body guard, then the main body of the army with Gates in the rear. The pursuing army was making forced marches in an effort to bring on a general engagement before Price united his forces with Van Dorn. We had hardly joined our company, when the enemy, seeing that another day's march would place Price very close to Van Dorn, sent two regiments of cavalry to attack our rear. The first regiment came dashing upon us without warning, yelling and shooting. Gates ordered his men to dismount and take to the brush. They obeyed in an instant, leaving their horses in the road. The horses, frightened by the attack from the rear, stampeded and dashed forward upon the infantry. The attacking regiment followed, and before they realized their peril were far in between two lines of hidden Confederates who, protected by the brush, piled horses and soldiers thick along the road. There were but few left to tell the tale. The second regiment on discovering the situation of the first, failed to follow. Price, on discovering that the attack had been made sent a regiment of infantry back to support us, but when it arrived the work had been done. We came out of the brush and followed the infantry, still protecting the rear until our horses were sent back.

That was the last day of the retreat. Price took a stand at Cross Hollow where Van Dorn joined him. The Union army stopped at Pea Ridge. Both armies rested three days. On the night of the third day Price broke camp and traveled all night. By daylight he was in the road behind the enemy, and at sun up moved south toward their camp. We had not gone far when we met fifteen or twenty government teams going on a forage. They were greatly surprised, but grinned and said nothing. Price put a guard over them and moved on. When he got in position on the rear he fired a cannon as a signal to Van Dorn that all was ready. The engagement soon opened front and rear. Price was successful on his side, but Van Dorn was defeated. In less than an hour not a gun could be heard along the whole south side of the army. The whole force then turned upon Price and he was compelled to retreat. He went north until he came to a road leading across the mountains to White River. The Union forces did not follow and the retreat was made with little difficulty. We had no baggage except the artillery and the teams captured early in the morning. The roads, however, were very rough and our progress was very slow. On the following morning while we were toiling over the mountains, General Price rode by with his arm in a sling. The boys cheered him until the mountains resounded for miles. In a few days we were beyond danger of pursuit and made our way in safety to Fort Smith.

From Fort Smith Price was ordered to Memphis. He started at once over land to Des Arc on White River. From there we went to Memphis by boat. After a short stay in Memphis, Brother James, who had returned from California and joined the army, was sent back to Missouri as a recruiting officer. Billy Bridgeman and I got leave to accompany him and we all came together back as far as Des Arc. There Billy decided to return to Memphis and go on with Price, while Brother James and I came home on horse back. This is the last time I ever saw Bridgeman.