From there we went on, without seeing any thing of interest until we came to the vicinity of Middleton. As we approached that place, we saw a dense smoke arise, and smelt a peculiar odor, which was so strong and peculiar as to attract our attention, and lead us to suspect that all was not right. We moved along cautiously, keeping a sharp look-out for soldiers or guerrillas. As we rose to the top of the hill to the west of the town, we could see a large fire, and about thirty men standing around it, with long poles in their hands. The odor that arose was almost intolerable. This was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. We crept up as near as we could without exposing ourselves to full view, and then--_oh, horrible to tell!_--we could see the men move about excitedly, and push with their poles something into the fire. Then sparks would fill the air, and we could hear screams like those of human beings. Amid the screams would arise horrid oaths, and cries of "_Bring on another!_" I did not see a human form in the fire; but that _odor, those screams_, intermingled with such _horrid blasphemy_, was _unmistakable evidence_ that some poor mortal was suffering the _hellish torture_ of a band of guerrillas! Perhaps some brave soldier, unable to keep up with his command on its return from the late battle; or some citizen, whose loyalty made him dare to breathe his sentiments; or, some poor mortal so unfortunate as to possess a sable complexion, was there, immolated upon the altar of fiendish revenge. As much used to sights of suffering as I have been, the recollection of that scene, as I call it to mind, makes me shudder to think of it. We did not dare to remain there long, lest it might be our turn next to gratify their hellish barbarism. We went back down the hill, and took off in another direction. We soon found the country full of guerrillas and squads of soldiers, that had become routed during the fight. They were gathering together in small squads wherever they could, some with arms and some without. The victory to the Federal troops had been a complete route of Price's army. I did not go as far as I had intended to go, because the state of the country was such that I deemed it imprudent to venture further; so we returned to camp the next day. I did not find out where the scattered troops were concentrating. CHAPTER XIV. Starts on a trip for General Lauman--His instructions--A Confederate widow--Discovers a squad of rebel soldiers--Captures part of their arms--Learns the whereabouts of guerrillas--Attempt to capture them--Guerrillas escape--Captures a prisoner--Cause of guerrillas' escape--The "General" and squad get arrested--The charges and specifications. When General Hurlbut took command of the District of Jackson, with his head-quarters at Jackson, Tenn., Brigadier-General Lauman took command of the post at Bolivar.