As we dashed over the hill toward the house, a man was seen on the top of a large gate-post, watching for us to approach. He evidently had underestimated our force, and had not looked for a charge. In the yard by him was a splendid mule and a new saddle. He gave a look at them and then at us, and then broke for the corn-field on foot, leaving his mule and saddle for us. The saddle was a new one, and, I learned by the people in the house, belonged to Captain Richardson, who happened to be there, and was helping Hall's guerrillas to capture us. The saddle cost him thirty-seven dollars, and he had just received it the night before. As soon as the guerrillas discovered that we were charging on them, they fled to the woods where I had ordered the Captain to deploy his men, and they all escaped but one. The Captain had halted his men in the corn-field, and did not take them into the woods; had he done so, we might have captured the whole band, numbering, in all, thirty men. The prisoner that we captured declared that he was no guerrilla, but a citizen; he told us that he lived in Memphis. At Van Buren, Mrs. Moore told me that she knew him, and that he was one of their nearest neighbors, and one of the finest men living in the county. At Mr. Marshall's we found a collection of neighbors, engaged in burying a child near the roadside. Mrs. Marshall, whom I saw there, told me that she knew him, and that he lived in Tupelo, Mississippi, and that he and his wife were out there on a visit, and that his wife was present somewhere in the gathering. Just then the wife saw her husband, a prisoner, and she began to make a dreadful fuss, crying and wringing her hands, and begged of the Lieutenant to let him go; "for," said she, "I know that he will _never_ take the oath, and they will _hang him, sure_, and I shall _never, never see him again in this world_!" The Lieutenant passed on with his prisoner, and I remained behind until after the detachment had all passed, when I started on. Before overtaking them, I met the prisoner, coming back, with a written statement, signed by the Lieutenant, stating that he had been released. Before reaching Bolivar, the wagons were loaded with forage. Aside from the forage, mules, and contrabands that we gathered, the expedition was a failure. The men we arrested at Grand Junction all managed to get released. I felt mortified at the result, because I felt sure that, if my plans had been carried out, we might have made a brilliant little affair of it. General Ross reprimanded the officers severely for not having obeyed my instructions. The reader can see by the foregoing what might have been done on that expedition; yet it was a failure, because the parties concerned neglected to obey orders. It is a parallel case, on a small scale, to numerous others of greater magnitude, in the prosecution of the war.