"I reckon we had," said the Mississippian. As we rode along, he kept up his boasting of how many Yanks he was gwine to turn up, little dreaming whom he was addressing. Fortunately for me, the road on which the column was moving passed through a piece of woodland, so as to hide all movements of troops. When we came to it, the rear-guard of the 17th Corps had passed along out of sight, and the advance of the corps next in line of march had not come up. As we turned into the right, where our troops had been passing, I caught sight of two Federal soldiers, sitting by the roadside, who had fallen back from their commands. Dropping a little to the rear, I drew my revolver and motioned to the soldiers to help me. I was a little afraid the old fellow would give me battle as soon as he discovered his mistake, and I wanted to make sure of him. The soldiers comprehended my meaning, and instantly leveled their pieces at him, which, discovering, he halted, and inquired, "Is them thar our forces?" "Never mind whose forces they are," said I, presenting my revolver; "you go right along." "I thought it was _our_ forces," said the old man, quite crest-fallen at his discovery. "Come in there, old fellow! come in!" shouted the two soldiers. "Ride along, daddy, or those Yanks will bore you in a minute," said I. He took my advice, and rode up to the soldiers, where I made him turn his horse over to one of them and his rifle to the other, and then marched him on, at a rapid pace, to overtake the command. We came in sight of our lines just as the first firing commenced in action at Raymond. As the musket reports became frequent, the old man's courage failed him, and he began to quiver and grow pale; and when the action became general, and the messengers of death came thick around us, his limbs could scarce support him, and he exclaimed, "My God! is that a fight? Won't we all be killed? If I can only get out of this yer scrape, I'll go home and behave myself! My God, I will!" I turned the old man in with the first squad of prisoners that came back to the rear, and then reported to General Grant, who had a hearty laugh over the capture of the old Mississippian. I presume the old man often thinks of his attempt to _turn up sixteen Yankee moccasins_! On the 13th we resumed our march for Jackson, by way of Clinton. On the 14th, about five miles from Jackson, the enemy's pickets were encountered, and driven back to within two and a half miles of the city. The enemy was under command of General W. H. T. Walker, and occupied the top of a gradually ascending rise of ground, with a large open space in his front. Many of General Walker's troops were South Carolina and Georgia regiments, and had only arrived there from the east the night before.