itzers who was
dying. Our course was along a by-road in the direction of Hagerstown. In
the afternoon, after joining the wagon-train, I found "Joe," the colored
cook of my mess, in possession of a supernumerary battery-horse, which I
appropriated and mounted. Our column now consisted of ambulances loaded
with wounded men, wounded men on foot, cows, bulls, quartermasters,
portable forges, surgeons, cooks, and camp-followers in general, all
plodding gloomily along through the falling rain.

We arrived at the base of the mountain about five P. M. and began
ascending by a narrow road, leading obliquely to the left. Before
proceeding farther some description of the horse I was riding is
appropriate, as he proved an important factor in my experiences before
the night was over. He was the tallest horse I ever saw outside of a
show, with a very short back and exceedingly long legs, which he handled
peculiarly, going several gaits at one time. Many a cannoneer had sought
rest on his back on the march, but none had ventured on so high a perch
when going into battle. When half-way up the mountain we heard to our
left oblique the distant mutter of a cannon, then in a few moments the
sound was repeated, but we thought it was safely out of our course and
felt correspondingly comfortable. At intervals the report of that gun
was heard again and again. About dusk we reached the top of the
mountain, after many, many halts, and the sound of that cannon became
more emphatic.

After descending a few hundred yards there came from a bridle-path on
our left, just as I passed it, three cavalry horses with empty saddles.
This was rather ominous. The halts in the mixed column were now
frequent, darkness having set in, and we had but little to say. That
cannon had moved more to our front, and our road bore still more to
where it was thundering. We were now almost at the foot of the mountain,
and to the left, nearer our front, were scattering musket-shots. Our
halts were still short and frequent, and in the deep shadow of the
mountain it was pitch-dark. All of this time I had not a particle of
confidence in my horse. I could not tell what was before me in the dense
darkness, whether friend or foe, but suddenly, after pausing an instant,
he dashed forward. For fifty or seventy-five yards every other sound was
drowned by a roaring waterfall on my right; then, emerging from its
noise, I was carried at a fearful rate close by dismounted men who were