We did not get clear through to our friend John’s, but stopped after traveling about twenty-five miles or so. There were mile posts along this road, so that we could tell how far we were traveling in a day or night. After the second day had passed it found us again on the third night eating hard corn from the cob, as we had often done before, when it was not good for us to let ourselves be known along the way. We made up our minds to get to where John Coltraines lived this night if we could, for our old friend who had given us the direction of his abode, told us if we could only find him he would help us through to our lines without any trouble. We started with the full determination of getting through to our lines this night if the Lord was willing, and until midnight had past we had got out of the way and let squads of rebels pass and repass along the way and still we had made some headway. After about the midnight hour I had stopped several times to make some inquiries as to where John Coltraines lived, without apparently any success. I had also asked for hoecake, and in return I had a double-barreled gun pointed through the door at me. This kind of fare we had been receiving all along the way. Never on our whole journey did fate seem to be so much against us as it did at this place, for we had not obtained a bite to eat for most three days, except the first. I had began to get quite jealous of my dear friend Henry, for I had been stopping to enquire the way and he had not stopped, running the chances of being shot at, and I began to find fault, as every jealous person will, with my very best friend and comrade that I believe I ever met in this wide world. I do believe if I should meet him and he had but five dollars he would divide with me, and when Henry heard me talk to him about his being a little cowardly he felt very bad, and told me through his tears that he was no coward if I did think he was. This sad talk, and with such feeling, broke me up, and I caught my grieved old comrade by the hand and wanted him to forgive me for this unkind talk, which I promised would never again happen, and I wish to thank God that it never did. Henry was determined that he would show me that he was no coward and he told me that he meant to stop at the very next house. Now we had been told by our guide that we must not stop at William Coltraines’, or “Bill,” as he was commonly called, for he was captain of the rebel home guards, or of a band of guerillas. We had gotten very close to where John Coltraines lived, and it was best that we should go slow, as we had been told about the barn which was a very large one, on the west side of the road, and the big wood colored house on the other side located on a raised lawn. Several steps of square blocks led up to the house. We came to this place, and Henry, not heeding my warning, at once started up these steps. I continued to call to him to stop, but he would not. He went to the large piazza and knocked on the