I have no distinct recollection of leaving the camp on Saline River, nor do I recall the military operations that followed the battle I have just described. I know that Steele went on south and that Price did not follow him. Steele and Banks were both well out of the country, and it is probable that we passed a few weeks of idleness and inactivity. At all events, my memory, upon which I depend entirely, fails to account for the events immediately following the experience I have related, and my next vivid recollection begins at White River, where we were swimming our horses across on our march back into Missouri. Price, Shelby and Marmaduke were all together. We passed through Dover, a little town where John H. Bennett, a cousin of mine, who was captain of one of our companies, lived and thence on to Ironton.

There we found about two thousand government troops, well fortified just north of town, in a little valley at the foot of a mountain. They came out and met us two miles from Ironton where we had a skirmish and they went back into their den. We marched into town and camped. It was reported among the soldiers that Price was having ladders made with which to scale the walls, but I did not believe it. Such an attack would have been successful in all probability, but it would have cost Price many men and I was sure he had none to spare. Toward night he had two field pieces rolled up on top of the mountain by hand and began to drop shells into their camp. They had neglected to fortify the heavens above them and Price was taking advantage of their neglect. When a shell dropped into camp you could see them running away in every direction looking for a place to hide.

Some time in the night they broke through our picket line and marched ten miles to a railroad station where they were loaded upon flat cars and taken to St. Louis. Price continued on toward St. Louis and greatly alarmed that city. Troops were hurried from east and west to its defense, but Price had no such plan. His sole idea was to threaten and draw troops from other places to its protection.

On the way up from Ironton we captured two or three hundred militia at every county seat. For all that could be guessed from his actions, Price intended to march directly into Jefferson City, but shortly before he reached there he turned to the west and went to Boonville. There he captured quite a large force of Federal troops and a steam ferry boat. Marmaduke with his brigade crossed the river and marched up the north side toward Glasgow, while Price and Shelby kept to the south side. Price put a guard on the boat and compelled the crew to run it up the river in conjunction with his forces. At Glasgow we captured something like a thousand troops. Marmaduke then recrossed the river and joined Price.

At Glasgow Lieutenant Evans got permission for himself and twenty-five men to return to Buchanan County to see their friends. I was one of the twenty-five. From Glasgow we went to Keytesville where we met Bill Anderson, the noted "Bushwhacker," with about one hundred men. Anderson and his men accompanied us to Brunswick, where we learned that there were about three hundred militia at Carrollton. Anderson said they were dreadfully afraid of "bushwhackers," and that he believed the twenty-five of us could run them out of town, but he sent fifteen of his men with us. We left Brunswick in the night and at four o'clock next morning were a mile north of Carrollton. There we stopped to wait for daylight. When it began to grow light we all rode together until we encountered the pickets. As soon as they saw us they turned and galloped into town as fast as their horses could carry them without firing a shot. This enabled us to get into the town before any alarm was given, as our horses were as fast as those ridden by the pickets. We rode in with a whoop and a yell, dismounted and got behind a fence. The fifteen bushwhackers ran around to the west side of town in plain view of the militia camp and commenced firing. Lieutenant Evans sent a man asking them to surrender. The colonel asked who the attacking force was. The man told him it was Jo Shelby. The colonel sent word back that he would surrender in one hour. Evans returned the messenger with directions to the Colonel that if he did not surrender in five minutes he would open the artillery upon him. The colonel decided to surrender and marched his men out into an open place and had them stack arms and march away to a safe distance. We closed in and immediately took possession of the arms and marched the Federals into the court house and locked them up. They had surrendered believing we were merely the detachment detailed to come and receive the surrender and were greatly chagrined when they found that we constituted the entire force that had attacked them. It was all over by six o'clock in the morning.

We cooked our breakfast upon their fires and out of their provisions. The town took a holiday, as it was strongly southern in sentiment, and so did we. In the afternoon we engaged all the barbers in town, and as we were coming back home to see our girls we had considerable shopping to do.

The ferry boat, still under order of General Price, had come up the river and we sent a messenger down to stop it, and late in the evening marched our prisoners down and loaded them on. We also hauled along all the provisions, guns and equipment and sent the whole across to Price.

Anderson's men left us and returned to Brunswick, and we camped for the night on Waukenda Creek, two miles west of Carrollton. Early next morning we moved on and by noon were in the hills north of Richmond and at night were in camp at Watkins' woolen mills in Clay County, two miles east of the home of my sister, whom I have frequently mentioned. Watkins gave us a cordial welcome, dressed a shoat and a sheep and brought them out to us and otherwise showed us many kindnesses. Next day we visited Mrs. Wilson and the following day completed our journey and camped in the brush in Tremont Township.

Everything seemed quiet, but we observed great discretion and did not venture from camp in the daytime. After remaining on the east side of Platte for about ten days without being molested, we crossed the river and camped in the hills along Pigeon Creek. Wall Brinton, Harvey and Bennett Reece, George Berryhill, and Joe, Bill and John Evans, boys in our party, all lived on that side of the river. Our camp remained there some two weeks without being molested. During the time we captured three soldiers a few miles west of Agency. They were on picket, sent out from St. Joseph, and in patroling the road came very close to our camp. As we did not need any pickets we took them in. One of them volunteered to join us, and as we knew him we allowed him to do so and to keep his gun. The other two were kept prisoners and their guns given to Bennett Reece and Harvey McCanse, two recruits, who had joined us.

Shortly after this our camp was moved back to the east side of the Platte and located in the bluffs near the home of Joab Shultz. Here we remained in seclusion, keeping the captured pickets as prisoners to prevent them from returning to St. Joseph and disclosing that we were in the country. We had little difficulty in keeping our presence from the knowledge of Penick and his men, as most of the residents of the community were our friends. Bad luck, however, befell us. John Utz and Billy Jones, hearing that we were at home and desiring to go south with us on our return, came to my old home to ascertain our whereabouts. My sister, who lived on the place, would tell them nothing but referred them to James Jeffreys. Instead of going to James Jeffreys, they went to George Jeffreys, a strong Union man, and asked him if he knew where Gibson and Brinton were. Jeffreys replied that he did not know they were in the country. Jones said, "Yes, they are here with twenty-five or thirty men." Failing to learn of us from Jeffreys they returned to the home of my sister, where, during their absence, Cousin Margaret Gibson had arrived, and as she knew Utz and Jones, told them how to find us.

George Jeffreys, that "good Union man," lost no time in communicating with Penick, for next day all roads were full of soldiers. Cousin Margaret Gibson came running to our camp and told us the soldiers were looking for us. We released our prisoners and started. When well out on the road we agreed upon a meeting place and separated, thus leaving each man to look out for himself and at the same time taking responsibility for any one else off of each man. This was thought to be wise, as our little band was no match for the enemy, but the enemy were not acquainted with the by paths through the woods and brush, and by going singly we were at liberty to dodge to better advantage. Jones and Utz came to join us shortly after we broke camp, and undertook to follow. Penick's men caught them and made them prisoners.

Every man showed up at the meeting place a mile below Agency. There we crossed to the west side of the river and stopped for a hasty lunch and to see if we were being followed. Seeing nothing of the enemy we concluded they had taken another course and that we were safe in remaining in the neighborhood over night. In the afternoon we procured flour and bacon from Jim Patee, where we were all given a square meal, after which we went to old man Reece's for the night in order that the Reece boys might say farewell to their father and mother.

In the morning early we started, crossing the Pigeon Creek hills and making our way south. At Isaac Farris' blacksmith shop we stopped and got horse-shoe nails and a shoeing hammer. I shall never forget also that Mr. Farris brought out a stack of pies which seemed to me to be a foot high. Although I had been at home a month where I had feasted bountifully, pies still tasted good. I had lived on hard tack or worse so long that I felt I could never again satisfy my appetite with good things to eat.

We next stopped at the home of Pleas Yates, where we found Captain Reynolds, an officer in Penick's regiment. He had left his company and was visiting his family. He had been very active against the southern people in the community and, as we believed, justly deserved their censure, if the word hatred would not better describe their sentiments. As we rode up Reynolds came to the door, the ivory shining on the pistols in his belt. He seemed to think we were his own men. Lieutenant Evans ordered four men, myself and three others, to go in and arrest him. Reynolds remained in the door until he saw us dismount. He seemed to step behind the door, but in fact he made a dash for the back door to make his escape. I saw him pass out and gave the alarm. Evans ordered the men to follow and commanded them not to take him alive. I threw the gate open and the boys galloped into the yard. It seemed to me that Yates had ten acres of land fenced off into small lots about his place, but they delayed us only a short time. The first man to reach the fence would jump from his horse and throw it down, the remainder would ride forward. All this time the boys were shooting at the running captain as fast as they could discharge their guns and reload them.

We had with us a tall, swarthy Kentuckian, with black hair and long black whiskers, whose name I have forgotten, and who looked, in his rough soldier clothing, more like a bear than a man. He was the first to reach Reynolds. As he came up Reynolds pulled a silver mounted navy from his belt, but the Kentuckian was too quick for him and had a holster pointed at his head. In an instant Reynolds dropped to his knees, threw up his hands and began to beg. The Kentuckian disobeyed orders and took him prisoner. He said if Reynolds had continued to show fight he would have killed him, but he could not shoot a man who was begging for his life. He brought the Captain back and, as he was then our prisoner, his life was safe, for no man with whom I ever served ever mistreated a prisoner.

When we reached the house Reynolds' wife and the Yates family came out begging and crying pitifully for his life. We had no time to stay and argue or explain. We feared the reports of our guns had reached the ears of Reynold's company and that they would come upon us at any moment. Wall Brinton told the Captain he must go with us, and ordered him to get behind him on his horse. The captain did so amid the wailing and crying of the women and we started away. Reynolds' wife said she would go too, but I told her she could not do so, as we rode through thick brush, and that she could do no good by going.

As we rode along Reynolds said he feared we were Bill Childs and his band of bushwhackers, and that if Childs had found him he would not have been permitted to surrender. He expressed the fear also that his life would not be safe even as our prisoner, if Childs should fall in with us. I assured him that Childs was not as bad as he thought him to be, and that he need have no fear. But even this did not satisfy him. On further inquiry, I learned that Child's wife had been taken by the Union forces and placed in jail, and that Childs charged Reynolds with responsibility for this act. Reynolds' terror of Childs made me believe, without knowing the facts, that the charge was probably well founded.

Evans and I rode along with Brinton and Reynolds and allowed the remainder of the boys to get considerably ahead of us and completely out of sight. When the proper time came we turned out of the road into the thick woods and stopped. Evans then told Reynolds if he would go to St. Joseph and have John Utz and Billy Jones released from prison and resign his office and go back to his family and stay there and behave himself we would turn him loose. The Captain was more than willing to do all this. Evans then asked him to hold up his hand and be sworn. I told Evans that was not necessary, as I would vouch for the good conduct of the prisoner. Evans then set him free and I never saw a more grateful man in my life. We parted good friends and I learned after the war was over that Reynolds kept his promise, except that he was unable to secure the release of Utz and Jones, as that was out of his power. In all other things he was faithful. I have heard that he often said to those who wanted him to return to the service that Watt Gibson had saved his life, and that but for him both his company and his family would have been without his services; and that he did not propose to break the promise to which he owed his life.

When we overtook the boys and they found we had released Reynolds, it required hard work to keep them from going back after him, but we finally prevailed and the whole squad moved on into Platte County. We camped about two miles east of Camden Point and remained a few days. Mose Cunningham and a man by the name of Linville joined us as recruits. During our stay there some of the boys went over to New Market and spent a portion of the time. The day before we expected to leave, Brinton and I went over to Alfred Jack's, as I wanted to see his daughter, Mollie, before I left. We rode up to the yard fence and there in front of the house lay a dead man—a Federal soldier. We called Mr. Jack and asked him how the man came to be there. He said that some hours before a party of Union militia and a few men that he took to be Confederates had passed his house shooting at each other, but that he did not know anyone had been killed. This was the first news we had that the Federals were in the community. The skirmish was between some of our men and a scouting party from the other side.

Mr. Jack was greatly disturbed and feared that he would be accused of the man's death, and thought of leaving home. I told him not to do that. He was entirely innocent and the soldiers knew the man had been killed in the skirmish. We helped him carry the body into his yard and started for camp. I knew the news of the fight would soon stir up all the Federals in the community, and, though I missed seeing the young lady, I was glad I learned of the trouble in time to get back to camp. By noon the roads everywhere west of us were full of soldiers. We got glimpses of them now and then from the hill on which we were camped.

We prepared our small camp equipment for traveling, saddled our horses and crossed to the east side of the Platte. Here we selected a good place to be attacked and waited two or three hours. Either they could not find us or did not want to find us, for they did not appear.

Late in the afternoon we resumed our journey to the south, and passed out of Platte and through Clay County without difficulty. The Missouri River was again the great obstacle, as there were a number of us on this trip. Richfield, the point where we had previously crossed, was passed by, and we reached the river bottom some miles below that place, just at night. We cooked and ate supper, and about eight o'clock started for the river, not knowing how we would get across. As we passed through a paw-paw thicket an amusing incident occurred. A man called "halt." As our horses were making a great deal of noise we did not hear either his first or second call. He called again in a loud voice, "Halt, third and last time!" We stopped at once. He said, "Who are you?" Our lieutenant answered, "Shelby's men. Who are you?" "I am a bushwhacker, by G—." He then asked if any man in our company lived near this place. Our lieutenant answered that a man with us by the name of Hill lived at Richmond. "Tell him to come forward and meet me half way." Then the bushwhacker began calling to his men to fall in line. Hill went forward and met an old acquaintance. Hill asked how many men he had. He said he had none; that he was alone, and was just running a bluff on us. When Hill and the bushwhacker came back to us we all had a jolly laugh.

We learned from him that Bill Anderson, with whom he belonged, was crossing the river with his band of bushwhackers about a mile below, and had sent him out as a picket. He went down with us and assured Anderson that we were his friends. The night was very dark. Anderson had forty-five men and one small skiff. Two men besides the oarsman got into the boat, each holding the bridle of his horse. The horses were then forced in, one on each side, and the skiff put off. It was a long swim for the horses and a long wait for the skiff's return, but it was better than drifting on cottonwood logs, as we had expected to do. With the boat we could all land at the same place. Anderson's men had been crossing since early in the evening and by midnight all were over and the skiff delivered to us. The last of our company reached the southern shore just at sun up, and our long journey seemed almost over with the river behind us.

Anderson, after crossing, learned that a Federal regiment was in camp at Sibley. He took his forty-five men and surprised them. They charged through the whole regiment, yelling and shooting, and killed, wounded and ran over about twenty of them without losing a man. Not satisfied with this they charged back, and by that time, the soldiers had collected their senses and their guns. Anderson was killed and three of his men wounded. I have always believed that Anderson and most of his men were half drunk that morning. The wounded men were placed in a tent in the thick willows and left to the care of sympathizing women. Anderson's death left his men without a leader. Forty-one remained able to go forward and they joined with our thirty. This made a pretty strong squad and we traveled the public roads in day light.

After two days our provisions gave out and we separated into little companies of from four to six in order to get provisions and horse feed from the residents of the country along the road, arranging in advance to unite at a given place. I recall an incident of this trip which afforded us great amusement. It happened near the north bank of the Osage River. Our straggling parties had united in order to be together at the fording of the river, and as we passed down toward the river we met a squad of about ten militia. Neither party appeared to be suspicious of the other, and the militia really thought we were a part of their own forces. We rode directly up to them and spoke very politely. Asked them where they were going and they told us they were going home. Said they had been after Price and had driven the d——d old Rebel out of Missouri once more and were just getting home. We then told them we were a part of Price's forces that had not been driven out, and drew our navies on them. It was pitiful to see the expressions of terror that came over their faces. We made them dismount and disarm themselves. They did so with the greatest apparent willingness. We destroyed their arms as we had no use for them, and made them swear a dreadful oath and promise they would never molest Price or any of his men again. When they did this they were ordered to move on, and seemed greatly rejoiced that their lives had been spared. The many bitter experiences I had during the war led me to doubt seriously whether we would have been as well treated had we been caught by our enemies at as great a disadvantage as we had them. And some of our men had long been with Bill Anderson, about whom the most dreadful stories of cruelty have been written—by men I presume who never dared to come out of hiding and who wrote the terrors of their own cowardly souls rather than anything real or true.

It must be understood that I am not attempting a defense of Anderson or his men further than to relate what their conduct was while I was with them. It was by chance only, in the manner I have related, that I was thrown with these men on this trip southward, and though we met a number of returning squads of militia in the same way and always had the advantage of them, not a man of them was mistreated other than to be disarmed, if that may be called mistreatment. The situation may and probably was different when these men were attacked or when the enemy was campaigning against them. I have heard it said that, under such circumstances, men who encountered Anderson's men had to fight, run or die.

With more or less difficulty and with many hardships, but without any incident worth mentioning, we made our way to the Arkansas River about twenty miles below Fort Smith. The river was running pretty full and there was no hope of finding a ferry without encountering Federal troops, so we constructed a rude raft of cottonwood logs, got on it and swam our horses alongside. This occasioned considerable delay, but we got safely over and made our way to Red River, where we had much the same experience. We reached Price at Clarksville, Texas, and remained with him there until January.

At this time Price's army was all cavalry—just as it came off of the raid into Missouri—and consisted of about five thousand men. Early in January he moved down on Red River about fifty miles distant in order to get feed for his horses. Horse feed was scarce about Clarksville, but in Red River bottom the cane was abundant and the move was made that the horses might be grazed upon the cane. Price remained there until spring and was still there when Lee surrendered. Price and his staff prepared to go to Mexico and seven of us—Buchanan and Platte County neighbor boys—saddled our horses, bade him goodby and started for home.