Leaving Bridgeport, I once more was off on my steamboat exploits, and as I was crossing over Walden's ridge, about fifteen miles below Chattanooga, at the top of the "cut off" I heard a very long, and loud scream, or more like an exultant yell. Thinking of nothing but bushwhackers in that locality, I "treed" instanter, and stood with my gun at a "ready" to fire on any suspicious object. Soon the sound of a horse's feet, coming almost toward me at a run, roused me to renewed vigilance, that I might get the first shot; for I made sure it was some rebel cavalryman. I was not kept long in suspense, however, for in a few seconds a magnificent horse bounded into view, mounted by a beautiful young woman, who was riding "man fashion," or, as the little boys say, "astraddle," utterly unconscious of observation. Her long, brown hair was streaming in the wind, as she was without bonnet or shawl; her short sleeves and low necked dress, left a beautiful neck, plump arms, and a voluptuous bosom, partially, but not immodestly exposed, while the skirts of her dress being drawn up by her peculiar position on the horse, exposed limbs perfect in development, and of dazzling whiteness. She was singing, in a clear musical voice, snatches of some song which she occasionally stopped, to give a shrill whoop at a half wild cow she was driving before her, at a fearful rate through the thick timber. She rode her horse with a fearless grace, and a firm hand, guiding the spirited beast by a rope halter turned into a loop around his nose. She soon vanished from my view, to the left, following a well beaten trail which I was confident must lead to a house. So quick did she come and go, and so beautiful did she appear, galloping away through the green woods with such a happy gracefulness, and fearless air, that I could almost imagine that I had seen a real nymph of the mountain.

Following the trail she took, in about a mile and a half I came to a house. A panting horse, of magnificent proportions, had just been turned loose in the yard to graze, and I instantly recognized it as the one I had seen careering so proudly through the woods with the fair rider. I at once went to the house, and at the door was welcomed by a pleasant looking matron, who invited me in, and treated me with much civility, as soon as I told her that I was a Yankee soldier and wanted lodgings. Soon after, the fair equestrienne came in with a bucket of milk on her head, "nigger" fashion. There was no poetry in that, it is true; but she was really very pretty, and as she placed her bucket of milk on the table, the elder woman addressed her:

"Eliza, here is one of our soldiers come to see us at last."

Then turning to me, she said:

"Stranger, what is your name?"

I told her my name and regiment, and asked what her husband's name was, and judge of my astonishment when she answered "Bob White"—he whose patriotic efforts in behalf of the Union, were a theme of admiration far and wide, in that section of Tennessee. He was what the rebels called a Yankee bushwhacker, and was a great terror to small bands of rebel cavalry who had to pass any where through the Sequatchie valley. He had about thirty men under his command, and sometimes could raise as many as sixty, on special occasions.

While my hostess was preparing supper for me, she and her sister were full of curiosity to hear from the north, and especially what our expectations were in regard to the rebellion, and our hopes of maintaining the Federal Union. I gave them the best satisfaction I could, consistent with duty; and they were much pleased to hear that our numbers were so great, and our army so well appointed, and expressed the most encouraging hopes of our final success.

Supper dispatched, I went to bed, as I was very tired. I had just got well off on a scout to the land of dreams, when I was aroused by the sound of horse's feet. The reader will understand that on these trips I never undressed, and sometimes slept with all my accoutrements on. The two women had put me to sleep in a room separated from theirs by an entry; and at the sound of horses, I sprang out of bed and bounded noiselessly to the door and tried to open it quietly; but lo! it refused to open; and on stooping down and peering through the crack between the door and the wall of the cabin, I found it was fastened by a strong chain, which was passed through a hole in the door, and around the facing between the logs, and was locked on the outside with a strong padlock. There was no time to lose, so turning to the window—a single sash, held in by two nails,—I broke the latter off, and laying the sash on the bed, I jumped out on the ground and ran behind the house as the men hailed the inmates at the front door; and peering around the corner, I discovered a large squad of rebel cavalry; Mrs. White answered them at the door.

"Was there a man passed here about dark, afoot and dressed in Yankee uniform?" they inquired.

"Why, yes, there was," said Mrs. White; "he stopped at my house, and got his supper, about dark, and as soon as he was done his supper, he left to go the 'cut off' way to Chattanooga."

"Who did he say he was?" was next asked.

"Why, he told us that he was a Georgian, and that he was going home."

"You say he went the 'cut off?'" said the officer, interrogatively.

"Well, now, I don't know for certain that he did go that way, but he told us that he was going by the 'suck,' and, of course, he would be obliged to go the 'cut off' from here."

With a polite "Thank you, madam," the officer rode away, followed by his men, some twenty in number. Waiting to see the last of them disappear over the brow of the mountain, I crept back through the window and replaced the sash again, and was soon sound asleep. Nothing more occurred to rouse me till midnight, except that one of the women opened the door cautiously, and looked in, I suppose to see if I had been disturbed. I feigned to be asleep, and she closed the door and locked it again. Near midnight, I was again awakened by the sound of approaching horses; and as they halted at the door, I again removed the sash, and jumped out of the window. This party hallooed and Mrs. White asked: "Who's there?" and one of the men answered: "Mack."

I peeped around the log house again, and discovered eight resolute men, all well mounted, and armed to the teeth.

"Is that you, McArthur," said the woman.

"Yes, come out a minute," he said.

She hastily dressed herself, and throwing a shawl around her shoulders, went fearlessly out to see them. Their conversation was carried on in a low tone—so low that I could only catch a few words now and then.

"We heard of him down at the foot of the mountain," they said presently, in a louder tone, as if to end an argument; "Well, tell him to come out here, we want to see him."

"Oh, boys, let him sleep," pleaded the woman, "for I know he's tired; besides, I am certain he is a Yankee, for he was talking to me and Eliza, until he got so sleepy he couldn't hold his head up."

"Oh, there are a heap of men claims to be Yankees now," said Mack; "tell him to come out."

I now walked out to them, for I was certain they were some of Bob White's men. They were very frank, telling me their suspicions; but I had no trouble in satisfying them that I was all right, and a friend; and then, after inquiring of the woman whose company of rebels it was that had passed, the whole party rode on in the same course they had gone.

This party had a good looking young woman with them, who was piloting them over in the valley, to catch a notorious guerrilla, by the name of Pickett; and the men vowed they would hang him if they caught him. When they had gone away, I asked Mrs. White what made her lock me up in the room:

"Why, you know," she said, "in these troublesome times a body never knows who they can trust; and you know we had no men folks about the house, for Bob is gone over the river, on a scout for Gen. Rosecrans."

I now got along without further disturbance till next morning, when, after a good breakfast I resumed my journey, feeling very grateful to my generous hostess, who refused pay almost indignantly.

At the mouth of Soddy creek is a place called Penny's Ford. The rebels were picketing on the south bank, and on the north lived a very old woman, named Martin, in a house entirely alone. Some of our prisoners, who had escaped from the south side of the river, crossed over at Penny's Ford, and the old lady had fed and secreted them, till they got strong enough to travel. Of this the Johnnies had heard, and to show their chivalry, I suppose; would amuse themselves by shooting at her. It was at long range—about nine hundred yards—and to have hit her, would have been mere accident. Every time she showed herself, they would vault a ball over, more, probably, to see the old woman run, than with any other object in view. She stood out nobly, for several days; but, finally, one time, while sitting in the door of the cabin, knitting, a ball struck the door facing, about four inches from her head, and this so frightened her, that she closed her house, and went to live with the old man Penny, where I heard her relate her story.

I went down the river bank, and halloed across the stream, to the Johnnies, who immediately answered; and one of them, bolder than the rest, ran down to the edge of the water and asked what I would have. Without answering his question, I fired a shot at him, from my rifle, putting my sight up to eight hundred yards. It seemed a long time going, but presently the rebel stooped to dodge the whistling bullet, and I saw that I had over shot; so I aimed again, and discharged my piece, holding this time full on his head. He was standing erect when I did so, holding to a willow bush, with his left hand, and his gun in his right; and after a long time the ball reached its destination, and I had the satisfaction to see the Johnny tumble headlong on the sand, his gun flying several steps from him. I then had it hot and heavy for a while. His company, concealed by the woods on their side, made the balls rattle on the bank where I was, cutting the trees up cruelly, but doing no further harm, for I was hidden in a deep ravine where I was perfectly safe; and from which I could fire on them leisurely, whenever I got a good "sight."

After having my own fun with them for an hour, I took the road to Colonel Cliffs', on Sail creek. He was a Colonel in our army, and I was told, at one time was on General Burnside's staff. He was at that time away from home, on duty; but I was hospitably welcomed by his family. I stopped here for two or three different nights, on the last being hunted out by fifteen or twenty rebels; I fortunately, however, received notice of their coming before they got in sight of the house, and moved my quarters promptly.

While in that part of East Tennessee, I was fortunate enough to hear a real, heartfelt sermon, preached in favor of the Union; and the services were closed with an ardent prayer for the President of the United States, his advisers and counsellors; for Congress and the success and welfare of our armies in the field. There was no milk and water, nor soft solder about it; but it was a real old fashioned, upright, square-toed Union sermon. The preacher was an old, white-haired man, and his crowded congregation were, for most part, of venerable age. The meeting took place after night, and as there was danger of it being disturbed or broken up by straggling rebels, I was invited to be present. Every man was armed; and this meeting took place in a country where some men say there were no Union men!

From this neighborhood I went to Chattanooga, which was now being invested by the army of the Cumberland. On the north side of the river was Colonel Wilder's famous brigade, and I reported to the Colonel, and was sent by him with a dispatch to Bridgeport, where General Rosecrans was supposed to be. I had walked since morning from above the mouth of Soddy creek, a distance of thirty-three miles; and the same evening I started from the camp before Chattanooga, to Bridgeport, a distance of fifty-four miles, over a rough mountain road. At Bridgeport I found the General, and reported to him, and learned that the cavalry were a long way in the advance of the infantry, and that it would be impossible for me to overtake them; so, after receiving orders to "knock around loose," I put out over Raccoon mountains. These mountains are the lower or southern range of the Allagheny mountains, and are high, steep and rugged, while lower down the country, they are called the Sand mountains. It is a ridge of a very irregular shape, and extends from a point where the Tennessee forces its way between it and Walden's ridge, on the north side, to Blountville, Alabama. Its many recesses and deep forests have always made it a constant place of resort for bushwhackers. In it is the celebrated Nickajack cave, one of the largest in the United States. Over this mountain a part of the army had already toiled, and the road was strewn with wrecks of wagons, splintered wheels, broken harness, crippled horses left to die, and poor broken down men who were unable to keep up in the impetuous march that would allow of no delay. On they were toiling over the mountain toward Trenton, in the hope of overtaking their commands at that place; but I fear it was a vain hope for some of them, for they seemed very much exhausted.

Trenton is a small town in Georgia, and is the county seat of Dade county. It is situated in a fine valley between Raccoon mountain on the west, and Lookout mountain on the east; and the valley is watered by Lookout river, and several creeks. Here General Reynolds was encamped, and I slept there till morning, and then pushed on for the advance. I passed Sheridan's division, and the next was General Negley's command. Learning from General Lytle, of Sheridan's division, that General Negley was to lead the advance, I concluded to report to him for duty, and found his division encamped on Lookout river, in the valley between Lookout and Raccoon mountains, at the foot of Johnson's crook, a narrow and meandering defile that led up the precipitous sides of Lookout mountain to Stevens' gap. It was a terrible undertaking to put an army up into that gap, as a handful of men might defend it against a host. It was held by Wharton, with a Division of cavalry, mostly Texans; and Negley was to scale the mountain with his Division and take possession of it. General Stanley was hovering on the enemy's communications far down in Georgia, in the neighborhood of Alpine, Broomtown, and other points, almost, and at one particular time, quite in rear of Lafayette; and at the same time, Gen. McCook, with his corps, was toiling over Lookout at Niels' gap, between the cavalry and Thomas' corps and Stevens' gap, his being the right of our infantry. Reynolds crossed over with his Division, if I remember rightly, at Doherty's gap, while Crittenden's corps moved up the railroad around the north end of the mountain, and General Wagner continued to threaten Chattanooga in front with Wilder's and Minty's brigades of cavalry. Chattanooga lays in the wide end of a Y, formed by Lookout on the west, and Pigeon mountains on the east; the north end of Lookout rising about one mile and a half from the west side of the town. Pigeon mountain is a spur of Lookout, which projects itself over to the Tennessee, about four miles east of Chattanooga. For about one half its length, it retains the name of Pigeon mountain; while the north end of it is called Missionary Ridge. In the Pigeon mountains are three gaps, besides the one right at its junction with Lookout, the most southern of which is Bluebird gap, the middle being called Dug gap, while the most northern is known McCowan's gap; and the intermediate valley between these two mountains is named Maclamore's cove. It is, at Dug gap, about nine miles wide, running to a point at the south end, while at the north end, at Chattanooga, it is about five and a half or six miles in width. The railroads running from Chattanooga to Knoxville and to Atlanta, pass through Mission Ridge at the north end; after which one keeps on up the Tennessee to Knoxville, while the other turns down on the east side of the ridge to Lafayette, the first point to which the enemy was compelled to retreat, and which is situated about six miles east of Dug gap, bearing a little south.

The reader will bear in mind that I knew nothing of the plan of the campaign, beyond what was developed on the field, and what was patent to all. I had passed in two days from our left, near Cottonport, Tenn., where I saw a part of Minty's brigade, of the 2d Division of cavalry, down to Chattanooga, where was Colonel Wilder's famous brigade, with General Wagner, and some force of infantry and artillery, busily engaged in shelling the place; thence to Bridgeport, where the commanding General was with a few troops, just preparing to go to Trenton, then already in the hands of Reynolds' Division; I also passed the 33d Ohio on the opposite side of the river, and saw Crittenden's troops ferrying the stream about the mouth of Battle creek; and from the top of Raccoon beheld the most of our center and right encamped opposite the respective gaps, where they were to scale Lookout mountain, and from whence they were to be hurled like an avalanche down, down from the giddy hights of that cloud-capped range in resistless columns into the valley, where they were to deploy in line, and sweep across upon the unprotected flank of the enemy, who were then in full retreat. The plan was certainly projected by a master mind, and had it been properly executed, would have proven the death blow of Bragg's army. After having gained his object, it seemed to be the intention of the General to draw his men in quietly, and without bloodshed, into the fortifications around Chattanooga; and had the entire command been properly handled, nothing could have transpired to thwart the design.

General Negley began his ascent of the mountain early in the morning of the 9th of September, I believe, and by noon had his whole command camped on top of the mountain, and here he sent me out to reconnoiter. It was a pretty long and dangerous tramp, but I made it safely, and discovered that Wharton's command was on the opposite side of the gap. The advance of the division was soon followed by the balance of Thomas' corps, and at the same time Gen. McCook was scaling the heights at Neil's gap, twelve miles below, and Crittenden's was moving round and over the north end of the mountain, while Gen. Stanley was threatening La Fayette from Broom Town valley, almost in rear of the rebel army. On the 10th the army was fairly bivouacked in the clouds, on the top of Lookout, which is very broad; in some places being four miles wide. Heavy clouds are constantly hanging over and lapping down upon the summit, and if it be a damp day, the top and sides are completely enveloped in the lower clouds. It is not, however, a high mountain, being only fourteen hundred and sixty feet perpendicular, I believe, above the level of the Tennessee river.

I believe we rested a day on top, and scouted out the summit, while in the afternoon Col. Stoughton with his regiment went down the gap to drive back the enemy, in order that our engineers could repair the road. I was sent out again toward night, and passing through Stoughton's command and the rebel skirmish line at a dead run under fire of both sides, I gained unharmed the top of a very high spur of Lookout. I was aided in this by the dust raised by the rebel cavalry, while the fire was going on, and by the darkness after the fight was over. I clambered over cliffs during the night, to gain the top, over which, next morning, I could not look without getting on my hands and knees. It was risky work, but it was in a good cause, and was of advantage to the service, which was enough. At the first crowing of the chickens I was on my feet, waiting for light enough to see the valley below. The view extended all over Maclamore's Cove, and is one of the finest landscapes I ever beheld. Far to the left—perhaps sixteen or eighteen miles—could be seen the hights around Chattanooga, while directly in front was the range called Pigeon mountain, together with McCowan's gap, Dug gap, and Bluebird gap—all clearly revealed by the light in the east. I had a splendid signal glass with which I could see very minute objects in Dug gap, and I discovered that it was well defended by rifle pits and artillery—two batteries being distinctly visible; while in rear of the gap rose a hill that thoroughly overlooked it, and on the crown of this hill was an extensive earthwork, running its whole length, and I counted within it sixteen guns. On the side of this hill I could see a great many brush shanties, with light, fleecy smoke rising above them, thus clearly indicating that they were occupied.

From the top of the mountain I descended by a very precipitous and rocky ravine, the bed of which in the wet season was a roaring torrent, but now shrunk to a little babbling brook, that found its source on the top of the mountain at some boggy springs I had passed. At the foot of the mountain I discovered a house nearly at the mouth of the gorge. I made for it, at first, with the intention of quizzing the people, to see what they knew about the enemy's movements; but when within a few hundred yards of the place, I discovered a man sitting in the hall or porch, which lay between the wings. He was leaning back, with his right leg thrown over his left knee, while opposite him, and leaning against the other wall, sat a beautiful young lady. I knew he was a Texan by his free and easy lounging style.

Running noiselessly in the bed of the ravine, under the cover of its bank, I stepped up out of it behind a huge tree, about sixty yards from the house. Now, if I shot the fellow there, the woman would take conniptions, so I thought I would scare him out, and then shoot him. I stepped back into the ravine, and hid myself, and then fired a shot in the air, and it had the desired effect. He rose, and walking out to where his horse was tied, picked up his bridle, and began to put it on. I got up behind my tree again, and shouted: "Don't you put that bridle on that horse!" He paid no attention, but as he approached the animal's head I recognized him. His name was Bowers, and he had served with me in Texas. Leisurely he adjusted his bridle, even taking time to buckle the throat-latch. Again I shouted to him to "put down that bridle," but he paid no attention to me whatever.

As he stepped to the side of his horse, I ordered him not to mount; but slowly, and without the least excitement, he swung himself into the saddle. I wanted to save him, and so I cried "Halt!" loud enough to be heard half a mile; but he turned quietly from me, as if to show his contempt for danger, and I was compelled to fire on him, or allow him to escape to the enemy, and report. Taking a good rest, against a tree, I fired full on his back; and we were in such close proximity, that I could see the hole made by the bullet. His horse sprang off into the woods, but he clung to the saddle, although in the agonies of death.

Hearing others on the opposite side of the house, I at once began to play officer, and deploy skirmishers at "double quick;" and so completely successful was the ruse, that the rebels did not await the development of my plans, but skedaddled as rapidly as possible in the direction of Dug gap, taking with them the wounded man, whom they left at the next house, where he died.

I missed getting his horse, which was a very fine one; as the intelligent animal, with his dying rider, ran steadily along with the horses rode by the others for over a mile, and until they reached the house indicated, where the wounded man was left to die. I was at the house an hour afterward, but found that the horse and equipments had been taken off, and that an ambulance had also been sent for the body, and that it, too, had been conveyed to the rebel camp.

After this, I hurried over to the road by which our army was to descend the rugged mountain, and found Col. Stoughton's regiment in the valley, where they had skirmished the night before, and then prepared my report for the General, in writing, and forwarded it to him from the skirmish lines.