incident to camp-life, and soon almost the whole company--indeed, all who were not absent on guard duty--thronged around and commenced all kinds of questions. "Pittenger, going to desert? Going home? Going out as a spy? Got a discharge? Got a furlough?"--were a few of the inquiries that rained from every quarter. At the same time I heard it asserted that several other men were dressing up in the same manner. I answered all questions in the affirmative, and stepped over to the company street adjoining our own--that of Company K--and sought the tent in which Frank Mills messed. He had a very good revolver which I wanted to borrow. As I entered, he read the situation in a glance. "So, you are going with Andrews." I nodded, and hastened to add, "I want your revolver." "You are welcome to the revolver, but if you know when you are well off you will stay where you are. Because I was fool enough to go, it does not follow that you need be." I did not argue the question, but he saw that it was settled, and he gave me the weapon, with a liberal supply of cartridges. I was now ready, and the gravity of the situation forced itself more clearly upon my apprehension. I did not expect to return to camp until the proposed enterprise had been accomplished. Considering, therefore, that so much was already known in camp from the report of the former party, and from seeing me arrayed as I was, I could not understand that it would be any advantage for me to steal away unnoticed. With this view, I went up to Captain Sarratt's quarters and bade him good-by. He was almost overcome with emotion, and could not muster a single one of his accustomed good-natured jokes. Then came the farewells to tried comrades. Few of them had any distinct conception of the nature of my errand, but they knew it was secret and dangerous, and this was enough to excite their apprehension. They labored hard to dissuade me. The devotion of one of their number, my inseparable companion, Alexander Mills, was especially affecting. Though he had been lying in our tent very sick all day, he now crawled to the door and begged me not to go. Finding that I was fully determined, he hurried as fast as his tottering steps would allow to headquarters, for permission to go along! Notwithstanding his physical inability, he persisted in his request until the colonel threatened to have him put under arrest. Had he been well he would not have been refused, as he was a most excellent soldier; but in the trying times that followed, it was a great satisfaction to me that he was left behind. Poor fellow! he lost his life while carrying the flag of the Second Ohio at the battle of Lookout Mountain, eighteen months later, and now sleeps in the beautiful National Cemetery at Chattanooga,--that town towards which our steps were now bent.