This morning the transports and gun-boats all move down the river, leaving us isolated and alone, and in consequence we are soon on our way back towards Pulaski. Thinking it policy, we move on a different road. We travel briskly; capture three guerrillas during the morning; run one about three miles and capture him in a brush pile. When about thirty miles from Eastport, inland from the river, and while moving on a quick pace, we suddenly come upon a battallion of rebels numbering about two hundred. “Lieutenant, no time to be lost now! back we must get or be captured!” says Lowery, the scout. So from the road over the hills and through the woods we plunge, and getting on the Waynesboro road, we make good our escape.
We travel until about eleven o'clock and go into camp on a plantation seven miles from Waynesboro, making a distance since morning of eighty miles. It is now raining; the winds howl fiercely; the boys seek shelter in stables and sheds. We now think of those who are on picket to-night, after riding so hard all day. Stern necessity demands it, and no one complains. What noble types of untiring fortitude!
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