I must find room for the address issued to his little army on the day succeeding the battle, for it tells, in brief, the story of the campaign: "SOLDIERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE: I am proud of you all! In four weeks you have marched, some eighty and some a hundred miles, over almost impassable roads. One night in four you have slept, often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads. You have marched in the face of a foe of more than double your number--led on by chiefs who have won a national reputation under the old flag--intrenched in hills of his own choosing, and strengthened by all the appliances of military art. With no experience but the consciousness of your own manhood, you have driven him from his strongholds, pursued his inglorious flight, and compelled him to meet you in battle. When forced to fight, he sought the shelter of rocks and hills. You drove him from his position, leaving scores of his bloody dead unburied. His artillery thundered against you, but you compelled him to flee by the light of his burning stores, and to leave even the banner of his rebellion behind him. I greet you as brave men. Our common country will not forget you. She will not forget the sacred dead who fell beside you, nor those of your comrades who won scars of honor on the field. "I have recalled you from the pursuit that you may regain vigor for still greater exertions. Let no one tarnish his well-earned honor by any act unworthy an American soldier. Remember your duties as American citizens, and sacredly respect the rights and property of those with whom you have come in contact. Let it not be said that good men dread the approach of an American army. "Officers and soldiers, your duty has been nobly done. For this I thank you." The battle had been won, but the victorious army was in jeopardy. They had less than three days' rations, and there were great difficulties in the way of procuring a further supply. The rainy season had made the roads impassable for all but horsemen. Still there was the river. But the Big Sandy was now swollen beyond its banks, and the rapid current was filled with floating logs and uptorn trees. The oldest and most experienced boatmen shook their heads, and would not attempt the perilous voyage. What was to be done? Col. Garfield had with him Brown, the scout and ex-canal-boatman, who had returned from reconnoitering Marshall's camp, with a bullet through his hat. Garfield asked his advice. "It's which and t'other, General Jim," he answered, "starvin' or drownin'. I'd rather drown nur starve. So gin the word, and, dead or alive, I'll git down the river!"