We then started on the perilous undertaking, which was more dangerous at that time than upon the previous trip to Kentucky, for men all over East Tennessee had to leave, and the roads and river were guarded. Nearly all the men had old rifles or shotguns that they had rubbed up until they looked like army rifles. We reached the Nola Chucky, about twelve miles from our starting point, about midnight in a violent thunder storm, in the darkest night I had ever witnessed. As the lightning flashed we could see it run along the barrels of the guns. The river was very high, and there seemed to be a general war of the elements. Each man had been instructed before we started to not speak above his breath, and if possible not to break a stick under foot. We halted in the lane in front of the house occupied by the man who kept the ferry, who was a Union man. His name was Reuben Easterly, six feet and two inches in height. I went to the door and knocked; he was slow to get up, but in a few moments came and opened the door. [Illustration: CAPT. R. A. RAGAN ARRESTED AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE. See page 8.] I said in a low tone of voice, “One hundred and twenty Union men want to cross the river.” He hesitated and said, “The river is up, and I am afraid you can’t cross.” I said to him, “We have to cross, dead or alive. If we remain on this side until daylight, we will be captured and sent to Tuscaloosa.” He finally agreed to try, as he was always ready to help Union men. He came out and about half of the men got into the flat-bottomed boat and ran up the river a hundred yards to get a start so as to reach the landing on the other side. We waited some time, and heard the old boat strike dirt on the safe side. In about half an hour the boat returned to our side, and the balance of us got in and were soon safely landed with the others. We asked old Reuben what he charged. “Nothing,” said he, “and I wish you a safe journey to the promised land.” Those kind words served to cheer us very much on our way. After crossing the river we started for the Chucky Knobs, where we were to meet several Union men. When we reached the place, in a deep hollow, with no house within a mile, we found fifteen men waiting for us, including Judge Randolph, of Cocke County. A number of Union women had learned that we were to meet at this place, and that their husbands were going away, and they had prepared rations and haversacks to supply them on their dangerous journey. They bid them good-bye, and two of them never saw their husbands again. We remained there all that day, and that night at eight o’clock we started for good, with about one hundred and thirty men. All seemed to be in good spirits and glad that they were on their way to the “promised land,” as Reuben Easterly said when we crossed the Nola Chucky. We travelled about fifteen miles that night, and next day laid in the woods on the banks of the Watauga River.