Before daylight, Mr. Derringer roused us. It was all right, he said; his neighbor Purcell would be there; and now his wife was up, and had breakfast ready. As breakfast finished, Mr. Purcell arrived; I bade my good friends good-bye, and started on the last stage of my journey. As we reached the main road, we saw numbers of men mounted on jaded mules, and clad in sombre butternut, with sad and anxious faces. Unhappy refugees flying from the invading foe! Some who had journeyed through the night, rode with us toward Paducah; others who had reached it the day before, rode anxiously out in quest of news. As many caught sight of me, they recognized the marks of recent service. "Are you from the Obion?" they asked; "how far off is the enemy now? Will he dare to come here?" We drew nearer to the town, and the signs of alarm increased. The crowd of refugees grew greater--the cavalry patrolled the roads--the infantry was under arms, and the artillery was planted so as to sweep the approaches. At last some houses appeared. "This is Paducah," said Mr. Purcell; "you are there at last." We stopped at headquarters, and I went in to report. "Is the adjutant in?" I asked of an officer who was writing. "I am the adjutant, sir," he answered, without looking up. "I have come to report myself as arriving at this post." "What name, sir?" I gave my name. The adjutant looked up, and with some surprise, said: "Why, you are reported killed, sir; two of your men saw you lying dead under your horse!" "How many of my men have come in?" "About half; they are at the Provost Marshal's." "Any officers?" "Yes; one of your lieutenants was taken, but escaped, and came down from Mayfield by railroad. And now," said the adjutant, "don't stay here any longer; go at once to the hospital, and I will send an order to the medical director to give you a good surgeon." A few moments more, and I caught sight of a group of my men. Then came the painful questions: Who have come in? Who are missing? Who last saw this one? Who knows anything of that one? Where does K's family live? and who will write to tell them how he fell? And then came a surgeon--a quiet room--a tedious time--an old friend--and a journey home. X. THE LAST SCOUT. From New York to Fort Henry might once have been an interesting journey, but campaigning has robbed travelling of its charm, and henceforth I fear it will be but dull work for me. The railroad bore me swiftly to the mouth of the Ohio; I have looked again on Cairo in its dirt and mud, Paducah with its dusty streets and hospitals, and now I am on the banks of the Tennessee. But I am here only to close my service in the West, and to say good-bye to my comrades of the Fifth; to get Gipsy, and to recover my sabre. I have had an interesting soldier-life in Tennessee--more interesting than I shall have again--and I leave it with regret.