mmanded the approach from the
south. He felt sure that the next day would witness the rout and
capture of the Confederate who had for so long harassed the Federals in
Tennessee. As he came to the hill he passed within a few hundred yards
of Forrest's men, who were concealed in the woods. The Federals went
into camp, while Forrest, leaving a part of his command in the enemy's
rear, silently passed around his right flank.

Now, it happened that Harry Herndon and myself, accompanied by
Whistling Jim and the companions we had picked up on the way, were
coming up from the south. It happened also that we were following the
road leading through the valley to the left of the hill on which the
opposing forces were stationed. It was very early in the morning, and
as we rode along there was not a sound to be heard, save the jingling
of our bridles.

The valley had more length than breadth, and was shaped something like
a half-moon, the road following the contour of the crescent. We had
proceeded not more than a hundred yards along the road within the
compass of the valley when a six-pounder broke the silence with a bang,
and a shell went hurtling through the valley. It seemed to be so
uncomfortably near that I involuntarily ducked my head.

"Marse Cally Shannon," said Whistling Jim, the negro, addressing me,
"what you reckon make dem white folks bang aloose at we-all, when we
ain't done a blessed thing? When it come ter dat, we ain't ez much ez
speaken ter um, an' here dey come, bangin' aloose at us. An' mo' dan
dat, ef dat ar bung-shell had 'a' hit somebody, it'd 'a' fetched sump'n
mo' dan blood."

Whistling Jim's tone was plaintive, but he seemed no more frightened
than Harry was. Following the bang of the gun came the sharp rattle of
musketry. We learned afterward that this firing occurred when the
advance guard of the Federal commander collided with Forrest's famous
escort. We had no idea of the result of the collision, or that there
had been a collision. We had paused to make sure of our position and
whereabouts. Meanwhile, the little six-pounder was barking away
furiously, and presently we heard a strident voice cut the morning air:
"Go and tell Freeman to put his battery right in on that gun. I give
you five minutes."

"That's our man!" cried one of the troopers who had fallen in with us
on our journey. Joy shone in his face as he urged his horse forward,
and we followed right at his heels. In a moment we saw him leap