After I ate something and while she was preparing provisions to carry with me the man told me there was but one place that we could cross White river without being placed in great danger of being captured by the rebels, for they were patrolling up and down the river every day. I told him I never had attempted to travel a foot in daylight since I had made my escape. He told me he thought if we could get safely across the river, he knew of an old trace that led across the mountains and intersected Taney county and as soon as we reached that settlement they all belonged to home guards and a man would be in no danger in making himself known. The woman baked enough biscuit and tied up bacon and red onions with them, the author thought, to have lasted a hungry man three days, for him to carry with him and we at once, after taking leave of the good woman followed by her best wishes that I would get through to the Federal lines safely, started for White river, about two miles distant. Just before reaching the river he left the author standing in the road, went into the house near by and soon came out with two other men in company with him. On reaching the river where there was a canoe tied to the bank they stepped aside by themselves, held a short consultation; then all got into the canoe, carried me across the river, piloted me across the river bottom to where the old trace left the bottom; there we separated, they hoping that I would get through to the Federal lines safely. They didn't think there was any danger in traveling in daylight, because there wasn't a single settlement for the entire distance of 25 miles. The author traveled on until dark had overtaken him. The moon gave no light until the after part of the night. The author laid down by the side of the road, took a nap, after the moon came up proceeded on his journey and in about two miles came to a house. Hallooing at the gate, a lady came to the door and said: "Come in." They appeared to have a very savage dog. I remarked to the lady that I believed the dog would bite me and noticed at the same time that she stood off to one side of the door. She remarked: "Go in; that dog will not bite you." As I stepped into the door I was confronted by a man standing in the middle of the floor in his night clothes with his old Springfield musket cocked and presented and he called out, "Halt!" The author halted, of course, and the next remark was, "Who are you and where is the balance of your crowd?" The author replied: "There is no balance of them and there is not much of myself left. The Confederates have had me prisoner and I have made my escape from them and I am now trying to reach Springfield, Missouri."