I started back home, twelve miles through the woods, and had to cross the Nola Chucky in the dark, and the rebels travelling all through the country, knowing that men were trying to cross to Kentucky. I reached home before daylight and let my wife know I had returned, then went out in the woods as usual and put up. The next day news came to the neighborhood that the men Joseph Smith met were captured the night he left me, only three men making their escape—the pilot (William Worthington) and two others. They saved themselves by jumping into Lick Creek, a small but deep stream, and sinking themselves in the water, only allowing their faces above the water enough to breathe. The rest of the men were taken to Vicksburg and put in the rebel army. Joseph Smith was shot in the foot while at Vicksburg, and gangrene set in, causing his death. The other men were never subsequently heard of. I never slept in a house but three or four times during the time I was scouting. I travelled between what is called Neddys Mountain and Newport, Tenn., which is about twelve miles. I never travelled in a road, and always in the night. I had an old uncle who lived in Newport, between the French Broad River and the Pigeon River, which were about four miles apart. I wanted to see him, and started out one night. It was dark and raining, but I always felt safer the harder it rained and the darker the night. I came to the French Broad, a good sized river. Of course I knew that I could not cross at the ferry, for I had heard that it was guarded by rebel soldiers. I had been raised in that section from a boy and was familiar with the river and the surrounding country. About two hundred yards below the ferry I crossed the river, wading part of the way and swimming the balance, with my clothes in a bundle on my head. When I got over I went in the bushes and dressed. I had to be very careful, for the town was full of rebel scouts, but no regular regiment was stationed there. I went on the north side of the town, and down a little alley to the back of my uncle’s house, and knocked at the kitchen door. Directly my cousin, Sarah Ragan, came to the door, and was dumbfounded to see me. She said, “Why, Cousin Bob, the town is full of rebel soldiers, and two are now in the parlor!” She took me upstairs, and I remained there two days and nights. I could look out in the street and see the rebel soldiers going up and down. Of course they thought I was in the Northern Army, and nearly all the Union people thought the same. I left the third night and went to my father’s, on the main road leading from Newport to Greeneville, Tenn., about three miles from Newport. This was a dangerous place for me to stop, but I wanted to see my mother and sister, and I always found such places about as safe for me as any, as the rebels never thought of me or any other Union man being in such places.