CHAPTER VIII. A NIGHT'S SCOUT IN JOHNSTON'S ARMY--REBEL SIGNALS--VISITORS FROM THE UNION ARMY HEADQUARTERS REPORT TO REBEL HEADQUARTERS--GENERAL J. E. JOHNSTON'S ESCAPE TO BEAUREGARD REPORTED TO GENERAL PATTERSON--FITZ-JOHN PORTER RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN, AS HE WAS CASHIERED FOR THAT OF THE SECOND BULL RUN--AN IMPORTANT CONTRIBUTION TO THE WAR HISTORY OF THE TIME--THE STORY SINCE CONFIRMED BY THE "CENTURY" HISTORIANS OF LINCOLN, SECRETARIES NICOLAY AND HAY.

In the morning I mailed a hastily-written note to Mr. Covode relating briefly the result of the interview with General Patterson's principal aide, and stating further that I would return to Washington via the Rebel lines at Manassas, and report "direct" on my arrival.

I hunted up in one of the regiments a former acquaintance, who had some knowledge of my Fort Pickens adventures through the papers. As our talk naturally turned in this channel, he expressed a lively desire to engage with me in any further undertakings of this character, and, before we parted, it was mutually agreed that, if the arrangements could be made, we should travel together as scouts.

I told my chum of my intention of going to Washington via Winchester and Manassas, and suggested that he secure permission from his colonel to go part of the way along; that he might return with any important information that we should gather, while I should go on through to Washington. It was agreed that he should be granted a leave of absence for a certain time, but he was cautioned by all his friends not to follow my lead, as it would surely result in his getting hanged. The warnings served only to increase his anxiety to get started on a real adventure.

As we could not get authority from our officers to go outside of our lines, it was necessary that we should run the gauntlet of both the picket-lines; our own were in sight and could probably be easily managed, but we did not know anything whatever about the other.

I proposed that we should make the crossing of the river early in the evening under pretence of bathing, swim to the other side of the river with our clothes concealed in bushes held above the water. We were to assume the character of Baltimore refugees desirous of entering the rebel army. With this plan matured, and all the little minor points agreed upon between us in case of capture or separation, we were both eager for the night to come, that we might start upon the journey.

We both studied the Virginia landscape carefully during all of daylight, and when evening began to draw its shadows around the hills and trees our hearts beat quicker, in anticipation of the forthcoming adventure.

After sundown we joined a crowd who had permission to bathe. There were, probably, a dozen or more in the crowd. We quickly undressed; scarcely speaking a word to each other, we joined in a general way in the sport and antics that soldiers love so much to indulge in when off duty.

My wardrobe was done up in as small a bundle as was possible, and while the others were fully immersed in their sport, I slipped both bundles further down the shore; my friend watching the movement from among the crowd. At a hint from me he swam down the stream and, quickly picking up the two bundles in the darkness that had now come upon us, safely towed them to the other shore, where he waited for me. I joined him as soon as possible, without being missed; we hastily dressed and ran back from the bank into the bushes to finish our toilets, and take an observation and both laughing at our success in escaping from our friends.

We thought it best to avoid the public roads after passing our pickets, so kept to the fields and woods, we cautiously moving along, stopping every now and then to listen and peer through the darkness for some signs of life. We crossed field after field and passed through strips of woods that seemed to be miles in extent, carefully avoiding all houses in our path.

The tramp became lonesome and tiresome—our nerves were at the highest tension, as we expected at every step to meet with something, we didn't know exactly what. Without a sign of anything alive except the crickets and frogs, we finally became indifferent and careless, having about concluded in our own minds that the rebels had left that part of Virginia. One fact was certainly established early in the scout, there were no signs of an enemy in General Patterson's immediate front that night, and probably there had not been any regular force near him for several days; yet every soldier in our army was positive that the woods right in front of them where we had been tramping were full of rebels. General Patterson's official reports will show that he entertained this erroneous opinion; yet he had no desire to avail himself of the service of scouts.

Becoming convinced that we should not meet with any opposition, we became bolder the further we went, and at last took the public road, trotted along leisurely without much attempt at concealment for some distance; we had almost became disgusted, not meeting with any fun, when we stumbled right into a barricade, which had been placed across the public highway by the rebels. Luckily for the two foolish scouts, the enemy was not there to secure the game that had blundered into their trap.

It is doubtful if it had ever been occupied at all, being probably placed in that position as a blind. This blockade, however, would have answered the purpose of obstructing, for awhile at least, a cavalry raid, or charge. Most likely it had been placed there to protect a retreating army.

It did not have the effect of stopping us, however, and we moved on further south. As we emerged from a deep wood, we were at last rewarded by seeing a light on the top of the hill beyond, but yet some distance to the side of the road; we made this out to be a light in the window of some farmhouse, but my comrade, who was a farmer boy, suggested that it wasn't the right thing for a farmhouse to be lighted up that way at midnight.

Looking at it from our uncertain standpoint, we concluded to approach it cautiously and see if there were anybody stirring around about the light.

Climbing over the fence into the field, we approached that light by the cautious, engineering tactics, using a zigzag stake-and-rider fence for our sap. For the first time that night we felt for our pistols, which were the only weapons we had. The oppressive silence was broken by my farmer comrade's voice startling me by a husky.

"I'll bet we'll find the dogs at home, anyway."

We crawled up that fence in single line, heads and bodies bent, something after the style of pictures of Indians about to attack a pioneer's log house. Stealthily we moved along, pausing every moment or two to listen and look about. We had some dispute as to which of us should take the advance. I reasoned with my friend that he was the better countryman, and more familiar with stake-and-rider fences and dogs than I; that it was his place to go ahead; but he wouldn't have it that way, insisting that I was the captain and must lead; so I reluctantly went ahead, insisting that he should follow his leader close enough to be touched. While talking in hushed voices, I stepped abruptly right onto something soft and round, which jumped up as suddenly as if I had loosed a spring, and with an unearthly snort and grunt began to scamper off. I was so startled, and became so nervous from the suddenness of the encounter, that I must have jumped around as quickly as an automaton pulled by a string—my comrade being close to me, as directed. I had by my quick turn knocked my head square against his with such force that we were both stunned. It was only an old hog that we had roused from the innocent sleep of the country, which, at any other time, would have been awfully funny, but we were both too badly hurt to laugh, and too much scared to swear out loud.

This one hog started up some others, the whole herd scampering over the fields snorting, which in turn routed out the dogs from the house, that came tearing out toward the sounds. Luckily enough, there was a picket or garden fence between us and the house, which the dogs didn't get over, and, before they got around it, their attention was drawn away from our location toward the hogs that were still running away from us. While my companion and I were comparing notes we were further startled by hearing a sound of voices, which were apparently coming from the same direction we had just passed over. Now we were in for it. There were dogs in front of us, hogs to the side of us, and voices to the rear of us.

The lights at the house had disappeared suddenly when the dogs began their uproar—there was nothing to be seen except the outlines of the grove surrounding the house. While breathlessly considering what would be the next best move, the sound of voices was again heard, seemingly closer this time. Straining every faculty, I imagined that I could also distinguish footsteps; that there were more than one person was evident from the conversation; but whether they were colored boys, returning from a night out, or white men and enemies who, like ourselves, were on a scout, armed and liable to go off at half-cock on the slightest provocation, was the one thing we would have given anything to have found out.

We couldn't run, as our retreat was cut off, and, if we moved at all, we were likely to start up the pack of infernal dogs, so we did the only thing possible under the circumstances—kept still.

The footsteps came on up the road, the voices getting closer. We made out that there were three persons, all talking earnestly together. If they had discovered us we would probably have carried out the Maryland refugee plan, and have joined them and have escaped detection. But what if they should be our own men?

I imagine that I can hear better with my hat off, so putting my head close to the ground, and in such a position that I could see over the lower fence rail, I waited with beating heart the coming footsteps. It was soon evident that they were talking about the light in the house that had disappeared, and I soon learned from the voices and the language used that they were not colored men. As the trio came nearer, one voice said:

"Well, we'd better wait right here."

"Oh, it's all safe enough; let's go on!"

"But," said the first speaker, "they said not to come to the house at night, unless there was a candle light in that far-corner window."

The third, who had not yet spoken, was nearest me, and was looking into the field right over where I lay. I thought that through the darkness, to which our eyes had become accustomed, that I recognized a face and form that I had met some place, but was not able to clearly distinguish.

While there had been nothing said to indicate their errand, it became pretty clear from these words that they were enemies, as there was apparently an understanding about the light in the window.

Was it possible that there were other men from the house skirmishing around in the darkness to our rear, and aided with guns and those dogs, would they run us down?

The third person, stepping a little in advance of the others, said: "Get back to the fence; there's somebody up on the road."

They scattered, and in a moment more suppressed voices were heard coming from an opposite direction, or down the road.

We were between two enemies, but, fortunately, for us, on the opposite side and behind a big fence crouching in some elderberry bushes. My companion, as still as a log, was probably, like myself, so badly scared that he couldn't trust his voice to whisper a thought.

Two men—one in his shirt-sleeves, and the other in rebel uniform, which I so well recognized, as the same old grey I had been familiar with at Pensacola and Montgomery, came cautiously down the road. As they were almost directly opposite me, one of the three who had come up the hill, accosted them familiarly:

"Helloa, Billy; you like to scairt us to death. I thought the Yankees had put you and your light out sure."

At once there was mutual hand-shaking, laughter and general hilarity, that served to draw attention away from ourselves and the dogs. The man in his shirt-sleeves explained that he had kept his light in the window all right, until a little while previously, when the dogs scared up something, and he took it down, until he was sure everything was all right.

So here was a signal station, and a rendezvous. I took courage when the party began to move off toward the house, and, as they passed my loophole, I discovered, to my astonishment, that one of the three who had come up the road was none other than the young man I had seen in General Patterson's headquarters, accompanying the old gentleman, and both of whom were so cordially entertained by our General's staff. Here he was, a direct messenger from headquarters of our army, meeting, by a concerted signal, a Rebel officer in the enemy's country.

That was news, sure enough; and they had hardly gotten out of sight before I shocked my torpid friend as I, with an emphasis he did not understand, told him that we must both skin back to our army headquarters at once.

I wouldn't leave him to return alone with such important information, but together we would go direct to General Patterson's presence, and tell him that there were no Rebels confronting him; that the enemy had positive and direct information of his position and probable plans.

"The best laid plans of mice and men, gang aft agley."

As previously indicated, I had intended to go straight through the rebel armies to Manassas, and so on to Washington via General McDowell's army and the Long Bridge. In pursuance of this plan, we had cleverly escaped from our own pickets during the early hours of the night, successfully tramped miles into the Rebels' country without meeting a challenge—eluding any pickets or outlooks the rebels may have had out, by a careful avoidance of all the roads or other usual routes of travel. But I had no intention of putting myself any closer to the fellow whom I had met the day previously at General Patterson's headquarters, and whom I had just discovered to be a Rebel spy, in communication with the man in the rebel uniform, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves. Had I tried the Maryland refugee dodge on this gathering of scouts, who were familiar with all the border, he would have recalled having seen me at General Patterson's headquarters, and an explanation would have been embarrassing.

Luckily for the two scouts, who were lying in the bushes within sound of their voices, there was such an exuberance of good feeling among themselves over their meeting, after the little scare, that it had the effect of putting the entire party off their guard for the moment. No attention was paid to the antics of the dogs, which were whining and nosing around, uncomfortably close to our hiding-place in the fence-corner. The farmer, growing impatient at their noises, which interfered with the conversation, greatly to our relief, drove them back toward the house.

The only enemy we had expected to find were the rebel soldiers in gray uniform, with muskets in their hands, standing on guard. We had not calculated on their,

"Letting slip the dogs of war,"

or else we might have provided ourselves with a few poisoned dog buttons; of course, we couldn't use our pistols on the dogs, as that would jeopardize our lives; the report would arouse the country and locate us; so, like Lear,

"Mine enemy's dog,
Though he had hit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire."

The five men and the—I don't know how many dogs—had scarcely gotten out of sight when my comrade and I energetically started on the back track. I am ready to admit that we ran, that we ran fast, even though we didn't see where we were going, in the dark; and I confess that I was in the lead, but my comrade kept up with me pretty well. We ran over the soft, grassy fields in the direction from whence we had come, for a long time without either of us speaking a word. When nearly out of breath and exhausted we let up a little, to get our second wind for the final run, if any more miserable dogs should get onto our scent.

"Say," gasped my comrade, breathing hard, "I think you cut my head open when you jumped onto me, when that hog scared you; it's all bloody, ain't it?"

I didn't stop long enough then to examine his head; I was in too much of a hurry, and, besides, it was too dark to distinguish blood. I replied to him rather testily, perhaps, as I didn't quite relish the reminder of being scared by a sleeping hog.

"I wasn't scared at all—just merely startled—and if you hadn't been holding onto my coat tails so closely, you wouldn't have been hurt."

"Oh, hell! didn't you tell me to keep close to you?" he retorted, savagely, as he rubbed his head, and looked at the moist hand to see if he could distinguish the color of blood.

"And you wouldn't go ahead, either, unless I was right on top of you, and, if I did get behind a little, you stopped for me to catch up."

I forged on ahead sullenly, too mad to continue the conversation further, except to say, petulantly:

"I believe I am bleeding at the temple myself, from having bumped your thick head so hard when I turned round to caution you not to tramp on that hog."

But my companion was in too bad a humor—we both were—to laugh over the ridiculous mishap, which I am sure was as painful to myself as to him. We trudged along in the dark in sulky silence for some distance further, each nursing his sore head in wrath.

I ventured the suggestion, by way of a compromise to my cross companion, that if he had taken the lead in our approach to the house, as I had earnestly urged upon him, I might have been in as bad a fix as himself. To this offer of a compromise he curtly replied:

"No; I wouldn't have tried to jump out of my skin, just because I had kicked a sleeping sow in a fence-corner." He had scarcely finished speaking when he stumbled square across the back of an old cow, that was quietly lying in the grass chewing her cud; but cows, you know, are not so sudden in their movements as hogs, when they are startled out of their sleep. This one, anyway, didn't make any unearthly noise or snorts, nor attempt to jump up and run off, but lay still, quietly chewing away, apparently perfectly unconcerned.

I believe she would have allowed a whole army to have crawled over her without disturbing her repose, but the incident served to put us both in a laughing humor. I concluded, however, that I'd had enough experience with the hogs and cows of Virginia, while we were trying to navigate the fields, and I would take to the highway and risk the short cut back.

The night was dark, very dark, having become more so than when we were on the way out. Clouds had obscured almost every star, and, to make it still worse, we heard at times distant thunder. "The lowering elements scowled o'er the already darkened landscape," compelling us to almost grope our way along the old country road; but, luckily for us, we were now on the broad, well-traveled country road between two lines of fence, which served to keep us in the right course, as we cautiously felt our way with outstretched hands, and eyes peering into the darkness ahead, fearing every moment to come in contact with something that would give us another "start."

To the sounds of the thunder, which were not now so remote, were added occasional flashes of lightning; these, had I been at home in a comfortable bed, would probably have only produced the agreeable influence of lulling me into the enjoyment of a more snug sleep, but out there, on that road that night, the effect was quite different on both of us.

We were yet a long way from our camp—how far we had no means of knowing, as our route into Virginia had been somewhat circuitous, on account of the necessary avoidance of all the roads.

Pretty soon the big drops began to fall over us; the lightning flashes were more vivid and frequent; the thunder seemed to be all around us; then it rained in earnest, an old-fashioned, Virginia, summer-night's rain, wetting the two miserable scouts to the skin in a little while. It was no use to look for shelter, and we both resolutely made up our minds to grin and bear it; pulling our hats down and shrugging up our shoulders, we sullenly tramped along that Virginia highway, two as forlorn-looking objects as may be imagined.

In this frame of mind we stumbled right into another road obstruction. We had come upon it in this raging storm from the rear, and found the place vacant. We captured the fort, which we could see from the now frequent flashes of lightning was simply a slight mound of earth thrown across and extending some distance to each side of the road, in the form of a rifle pit; embrasures were made for cannon, and through one of these peered a log, or stick of wood, shaped like an iron cannon, the rear end or breech of which was supported on a saw-horse platform of crossed sticks. On the crest of their "works" were placed some fence rails, while in front, and some little distance down, some trees had been felled over the road, their branches being stripped of the leaves to answer the purpose of an abatis. In the darkness, we were unable to discover any signs of the place having ever been occupied by the rebel forces.

My companion recklessly began striking matches, which he had been able to keep in a dry place on his person, but, luckily for us, perhaps, had there been any one set to watch the place, and who might be only seeking a temporary shelter from the storm, his attempts to illuminate were frustrated by the gusts of wind and rain, which blew the light out as quickly as it was born.

Tired, wet, hungry and disgusted with ourselves, we sat down there in the enemy's camp to rest—if sitting on a log in a blinding rain-storm for an hour may be called resting—but we could do nothing else; the night was too dreadfully dark, and the wind and rain too blustering to allow us to safely travel on the winding roads, which lead through long strips of woods that seemed to paint everything, if possible, with a deeper gloom; beside this, we had discovered, by the lightning flashes, that the road in our front was blockaded by fallen trees, and the thought occurred to us that on this road there might be some Rebel guards seeking protection from the storm in some sheltered places.

My companion was so utterly discomfited and dejected that he refused positively to move a step further, saying:

"I'm going to stay right here till somebody comes and takes me away. I don't care whether it's Rebels or not."

So we held the fort, he finally succeeding in lighting up a little fire against and under an old log that had covered some little twigs from the storm.

"There's no danger of anybody coming out here to-night to see our fire, or bother us," said my comrade. "Nobody would be as foolish as we are, to be caught out to-night."

If we had been surprised in that condition, it's probable enough we could easily have palmed off the Maryland refugee story, and have obtained credit for our self-sacrificing devotion, in trying to overcome such dreary difficulties in getting into the Confederate lines.

I reasoned that this would be all right for him, if I were only sure of not running across the chap who had seen me at General Patterson's headquarters while I was presenting a letter from the Secretary of War proposing the spy service. My companion, who had not so much to risk, continued growling:

"Why, if we should get to the river, or run across some of our pickets in this darkness, they'd be sure to go off at half-cock, and shoot us before we had a chance to say beans."

This was a convincing argument with me. We were still between two fires. I agreed to wait for more light. I was anxious, however, that our officers should have the information we had obtained—that General Joseph E. Johnston's army was not in General Patterson's front, and the dreadful masked batteries, which were so much feared by our generals, were merely bush fortresses, thrown across the roads, or laid out shrewdly to deceive our officers. There were no soldiers and no cannon near them; and, moreover, the enemy was in communication direct with General Patterson's headquarters, as we could prove, and probably knew all his plans, while he was wholly ignorant of the probable escape of Johnston's whole force.

As I sat there, like a disconsolate toad, on that log, in the pelting rain, I pondered these things in my mind, until I became so nervous that I could scarcely keep still. Every moment was valuable. I determined to start again as soon as the rain would let up a little. But the elements seemed to be against us; it not only rained, but it poured, for the balance of the night, making the daylight later than usual.

My companion became sleepy and dreadfully stupid, and was apparently lost to all fear for his own safety. My time was pretty much occupied in trying to keep our little bit of fire from going out. Before I was fully aware of it, the grey daylight was mixing with the black, which was beginning to thin out as the rain slackened off somewhat. I soon began to distinguish objects in the landscape short distances away. A large farmhouse situated only a short distance to our rear was revealed, but being off the road, as is the custom in that country, we had passed it in our tramp along the road during the night.

If there were any guard at all for that place, they were probably comfortably housed there while the storm raged without, but they would probably be aroused bright and early in the morning, to look after their wooden guns. I kept my eyes strained toward this house for some sign of life, but not seeing anything, not even smoke from the chimneys, nor a dog in the yard, I turned wearily for a lookout in the direction of our own country, to try and discover, if possible, how far we were yet from our friends.

The rain had now ceased. My comrade, leaning against a log, was sleeping out loud; he didn't present a particularly attractive appearance, either; though a handsome young fellow, with black hair and eyes, and a fine form, he certainly was not a sleeping beauty; but, lying against a smoky old log, his eyes closed, but a capacious mouth hung wide enough open to have answered for the mouth of a cannon, the whole side of his face smeared with blood, that had oozed from the head, after the concussion over the hog, while the other half of his handsome face, being next to the smoky fire, over which he had been nodding in his sleep, was begrimed with the smoke and ashes that had adhered to his wet skin; the wet, dripping clothes were, of course, clinging to his manly form in anything but an attractive style. I felt that if I were nearly as ugly as he, the appearance of two such objects would be sufficient to frighten off anybody that might approach us, and I took renewed courage from this fact.

I turned from the contemplation of this ludicrous scene to again take an observation. In the direction of our lines this time I thought I discovered something moving along the edge of the wood. I was about to conclude that I had been mistaken, when I was startled by the appearance of two men, standing together some distance below, apparently talking earnestly, as one of them pointed up the road toward our Fort.

I was in a condition of mind and body to be chilled by anything at that time, and imagined that we had been discovered and were being surrounded to prevent our escape. Running back to my partner, I roughly shook him up, saying we had to move quickly. The stupid fellow, opening one eye, refused to stir. Giving him another good shake, I again repeated the warning. He slowly realized his position, and stared wildly about.

I dragged him over to where he might see the two men who were standing down the road, and endeavored to point out the danger; apparently not yet fully awake, he coolly crawled up on the felled tree, which was lying across the road, as if to get a better look at them, before I could pull him down. We were in for a run or a fight sure. I suppose my freely-expressed indignation at his absurd conduct had the effect of rousing him from his lethargy, as he seemed suddenly to come to his senses and was now ready to move off quickly enough.

To be caught by the Rebels attempting to go toward our line would put us in a bad plight. The men whom we had seen had disappeared at this ugly apparition on the log as suddenly as if the ground had opened and swallowed them up; whether they would come on up, or go for reinforcements, we didn't know.

We evacuated that fort, our line of retreat being in a course bearing toward our own lines, and leading us further from the two men.

We scampered through the wet underbrush and grass of the woods, every step being a slosh to the shoe-tops, while every bush dashed against our already well-soaked clothes all the water it had gathered in its leaves and branches from the rain of the night.

Early morning is the safest time for a scout to do his traveling, and we went straight along unimpeded, save by the wet undergrowth, and the disagreeable necessity of clambering over slimy old logs and fences, reaching the place where our pickets should have been while it was yet quite early. Here we made a mistake. Instead of attempting to pass back through our lines, as we had escaped out in the early evening previous, we thought that, being so tired, and wet, hungry, and so generally used-up, we might just as well approach boldly and surrender to our own pickets, knowing that we should be all right when once within our lines and our story of Johnston's retreat was told.

My companion being a member of a regiment that had performed picket duty, had some practical experience with the boys, and was, in consequence, quite uncertain as to the manner in which our flag-of-truce would be received by the men on guard; he said that, while on that duty himself, his instructions were to "fire at anything he saw moving, no matter what it was," and he was apprehensive the members of his own regiment would immediately bang away at us if we made an appearance out there.

"But, we will show them a flag-of-truce."

"Oh, that's nothing; there's some fellows in my company crazy to shoot at something, and they don't know a white from a black flag."

As it was daylight, there was no other way to get in, except by laying over in the woods till night, and this we couldn't think of doing in our miserable condition; beside this, we were hungry.

Feeling it to be a duty to risk even a fire from our own green pickets, to get in quickly with our information for General Patterson, I concluded to try the flag-of-truce project. Looking carefully about to see that we were not liable to an attack in the rear while making this advance, I picked up a stick in the woods, and tied to it, in the form of a flag, an exceedingly dirty, white handkerchief, and, after all was ready, with my hat in one hand, the flag well advanced in the other, I started out to make the communication, my comrade keeping close to me, there being no danger of tramping on a hog in broad daylight.

We had scarcely gotten out of the woods when I began waving the old handkerchief so wildly that the stick broke in two, dropping the flag on the ground. I grabbed up the remnant, nervously, for fear they might fire, and again waved it as we moved forward. We saw a commotion among our men—one or two blue coats were running around, as if to report the phenomenon that appeared before them. Walking ahead more rapidly, as we gained confidence from their not shooting at us, we were soon within hailing distance, and walked into their line nervously, and watched a half-dozen fellows clutching muskets which we knew were loaded, and might go off. Suddenly we were surrounded by all the guard who were not on post, who were anxious to see some real live, repentant rebels come into the Union again. That army had not yet seen a Rebel.

What a sorry looking couple we were to be sure. Dirty faces, and bloody heads, smoked about the eyes in a manner to make us ludicrous indeed, our clothes wet, dripping wet; and clinging to our bodies in rags, our tramp through the bushes having almost torn them off us.

The boys were cooking their early camp breakfast; through their kindness we each had some coffee and bread. I am a coffee-drinker now, and am, perhaps, a little cranky on the subject. I buy the best coffee, and have tried every patent coffee-pot that has ever been brought out, but I have not yet been able to find as delicious a cup of the beverage as was given me in a quart tin cup, with brown sugar and no cream, on the banks of the Potomac, in July, 1861.

While we were enjoying the hospitality of the boys, all of whom were greatly amused at our absurd appearance, and interested in our night's adventure, which my companion could not resist the temptation of exaggerating to his friends, the officer of the guard had reported his catch to his colonel, who peremptorily ordered us into his presence. Without allowing us an opportunity to wash or clean up, we were marched, like two prisoners, between two files of soldiers with fixed bayonets, through several camps, amid the laughter and jeers of the crowds which were attracted by the odd show.

Approaching the Pennsylvania-Dutch Colonel's tent, we were ordered, in a rough, dogmatic way, to make an explanation of our being in the enemy's lines. I was offended at the rude manner of the officer, and my feelings had been sorely wounded by being marched in this humiliating way through his camp; being resentful, I spunkily informed the Colonel that I should not report or explain anything to him; that my report would be to his superior only—General Patterson.

A crowd had gathered about us, whom the arrogant Colonel had proposed to entertain by an exhibition of his authority and our discomfiture, and my speech so angered him that he was ready to run me through with his sword. He swore in Pennsylvania-Dutch, and again demanded my explanation, which I firmly declined to give.

He was too angry to appeal to my comrade, but, in high military dudgeon, ordered us both to the guard-house, saying to the officer who had brought us there:

"Those two men had been on a drunk, and had been fighting each other, as any fool could see from their black eyes and bloody noses—put them both in the guard-house;" and he did.

There we remained nearly all that day, denied, by the stupidity and offended dignity of the Colonel, the permission I begged of being allowed to communicate with General Patterson.

I presume he sincerely believed we had been off on a regular jamboree en tare during the night, but it was a terribly rough joke on me, and the second time during the first four months of the war that I had been held a prisoner by our own officers while engaged in the performance of an exceedingly dangerous duty for the benefit of the Union cause. I again resolved, in my own mind, more firmly than before, that I should never again undertake any secret service.

My interview with General Patterson's Chief-of-staff—Fitz-John Porter—on presentation of my note of introduction from the Secretary of War, had been so unsatisfactory, that I naturally felt some misgivings as to the outcome of a second attempt in the same direction, particularly as this trip had not been authorized, but was, in fact, carried out independently and almost in opposition to the expressed disapproval of headquarters.

I felt, too, that being escorted to the General's presence, between two soldiers from a guard-house, without the opportunity to repair my dress and appearance, would not help the doubting and disdainful Chief-of-staff to a more favorable opinion of myself; and the recommendation the Dutch Colonel would be sure to send along with me would not be likely to create in the minds of the General's advisers a flattering opinion as to the reliability of our story.

I could get no satisfaction from the officers in charge at the guard-house as to our ultimate disposition. In reply to my appeals to be permitted to report to headquarters in person, I was directed to state my case in writing, and it would be forwarded through the regular channels. I knew very well that this circumlocution meant delay—that in this case delays would be dangerous, as any papers filed would have to be inspected by the officer of the guard, the captain, colonel, brigadier and major general, probably requiring a day at each of these headquarters before it would reach the Assistant-adjutant-general at headquarters.

Beside, I had no intention of submitting my special business to an inspection by every officer in camp before it should reach the proper authority, and so informed the officer who had been sent by the Colonel to obtain from me information as to my business with the General.

My comrade had been separated from me early in the day, and sent to his own company in arrest and disgrace; he had probably told his story to his own officers, who, knowing something of the young man, believed him, and in this way my case, which promised to be a lonely imprisonment for some days, was more speedily brought to the General's notice.

The young officer who had been sent to gather from me the account of our trip seemed to be favorably impressed by my urgent prayer to be permitted to report to General Patterson, and kindly offered to do all he could to gratify my desire. It was a long time, however, before I was able to hear from anybody outside of the sentry, who stood guard over me with a loaded musket.

During all those anxiously waiting hours, when I lay in the guard-house, Rebel General J. E. Johnston was rapidly getting further away, or at least making himself more secure with fewer troops in his present position, and I was brutally denied the privilege of informing our headquarters of the facts we had obtained, after a night of hard work, danger and misery combined. At last, about 4 P. M., I was notified to accompany my young officer to headquarters, to report. The young gentleman courteously granted me the privilege of washing and dressing myself up in the best way I could—he generously aiding me by the tender of a collar, brushes, etc. After a long walk, which was quite tiresome after the exercise of the night previous in the rain, we reached headquarters, where I was met at once by General Porter, who politely enough heard my story through, questioning me closely as to several points in a manner which, I augured, showed some interest in the work we had undertaken.

With a simple word of thanks he was ready to dismiss me, and the subject, as a matter of no consequence, when I ventured to ask his opinion as to the value of our researches.

"Well," he replied, "as I told you previously, the General does not place any reliance upon information of this character; we have had conflicting reports, and do not rely upon it."

"But," I said, "it is undoubtedly true that there are no rebels near us."

"But we have reliable information to the contrary, and more recent than yours."

This was indeed a stunner. How could it be. I was positive there had been no enemy near during the night, and mildly suggested that, if there were any Rebels there, they had come while I was confined in the Dutch Colonel's guard-house.

Porter merely laughed in a patronizing way, as he dismissed me, saying:

"You can make that report to Washington; it won't do here. We know all about Johnston."

"Well, one thing is sure, Johnston knows all about you, too."

I left headquarters in a frame of mind closely allied to frenzy. I was beginning to think that I must be crazy, because the general headquarter's atmosphere and style seemed to have about it an air of authority that could not be disputed; and when Porter said he had information, reliable and more recent than I had tried to give I began to feel that he must be right, and we all wrong.

Walking off, dejectedly, but again free to go as I pleased, I hunted up my companion of the night before, to offer any assistance in my power to secure his release from confinement. I found his company, and had a general consultation with him, in the presence of some line officers, in which it was agreed that our report of the situation was generally believed throughout the army; but, said my comrade:

"There were two other fellows out last night, and they came back right after we did, and reported that they had found a big Fort on top of a hill; that there were camp fires blazing all around it, and six men jumped up on the works and chased them two miles."

It flashed upon me in a moment, and I said, laughingly:

"Why they must be the two fellows we saw while in the Fort, and that you scared off when you got up on that log."

After a further comparison of notes, it was agreed by all that this was the more reliable and recent information General Porter had obtained. Our little smoky fire had been magnified into a hundred rebel camp fires, and the blunder of my comrade in mounting the parapet had turned to our benefit, in frightening off two of our own scouts. We were not aware, however, that we had chased them through the wet woods—it being our purpose and intent to run away from them; and we believed we were going in an opposite direction all the time.

I was abundantly satisfied with the night and day's experience; and leaving my friend to make any further explanations to General Porter, or headquarters, I availed myself of the opportunity to take an evening train, which carried me to Chambersburg, where among relatives and friends I was able to replenish my scanty wardrobe.

The following Sunday, First Bull Run was fought and lost.

There have been many reasons given the public, officially and otherwise, in explanation of this disaster, one of which has not been officially mentioned, and is in brief—that General Patterson, through his Chief-of-staff, persistently declined to avail himself of information concerning Johnston's movements, that had been voluntarily obtained, after some hardships, by a scout, who had been endorsed to him by the Secretary of War as being reliable and trustworthy.

I have not seen General Fitz-John Porter since July, 1861, that I know of. We all know he was a gallant soldier, whom I should honor as a native of my own state; but, without questioning his loyalty, I venture the opinion that General Patterson (who was 69 years old at that time) was by his (Porter's) influence or over-caution prevented from pressing General Johnston, as he had been ordered; and is, therefore, indirectly, responsible for Johnston's timely reinforcement of Beauregard, which made the rebel victory possible.

And I believe the same over-caution or influence was brought to bear on General McClellan at the critical hour at Antietam, and prevented his following up the victory at that time.

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