ry able man and had established a
reputation as a good fighter. So now, with perfect coolness, he managed
to present a very strong front where the rear had been, and he made
desperate efforts to protect his flank. But he was too late. Forrest
said afterward that it was as pretty a move as he had ever seen, and
that if it had been made five minutes sooner it would probably have
saved the day.

Just as the movement was about to be completed it was rendered useless
by the charge of Forrest's escort, a picked body of men, led by the
General in person. In the circumstances such charges were always
irresistible. Before the Federals could recover, the Confederate
general, by means of a movement so sudden that no commander could have
foreseen it, joined his force with that which was supporting Freeman's
battery and charged all along the line, bringing the eight and
twelve-pounders right to the front. No men, however brave, could stand
before a battery at close range, and the inevitable result ensued--they
got out of the way, and stood not on the order of their going. They
floundered across the river as best they could, and if they had not
been American troops they would have been demoralized and rendered
useless for fighting purposes; but, being what they were, they showed
their courage on many a hard-fought field as the war went on.

When night fell we retired a mile or two from the river and went into
camp. Forrest was in high good-humor. He had accomplished all that he
had set out to accomplish, and more. He had emphasized the fact that it
was dangerous work for the Federals to raid Northern Alabama while he
was in striking distance, and he had captured army stores and secured
horses that were comparatively fresh. The most welcome capture was the
arms, for many of his men were armed with flintlock muskets.

He was very talkative. "That nigger of yours done about as well as any
of the balance of us," he said to Harry Herndon.

"I didn't see him at all during the fighting," replied Harry, "but I
told him you'd have him shot if he ran."

"Well, he went right in," remarked the General, "and I expected him to
go over to the Yankees. Maybe he'd 'a' gone if it hadn't been for the
water."

At that moment we heard Whistling Jim calling, "Marse Harry! Marse
Cally Shannon!" I answered him so that he could find us, and he came up
puffing and blowing. A red handkerchief was tied under his chin and
over his head.

"Marse Harry!"