but
it was anxious to revenge the trouble it had been occasioned. It was
organized with James Bennett as Colonel, W.W. Ward, Lieutenant Colonel,
and R.A. Alston, formerly Morgan's Adjutant General, as Major. The
senior captain--the famous Dick McCann--was scouting around Nashville,
holding high carnival, and behaving himself much as Morgan had formerly
done on the same ground.

Captain McCann had served for some time in infantry, but found it too
slow for him. He accompanied our command in our first raid into
Kentucky, and served with distinction as a volunteer in our
advance-guard, in the operations around Gallatin, of the summer of 1862.
It would be impossible to recount all of his numerous adventures. He
kept himself so busy prowling around night and day, and so rarely
permitted an enemy to venture beyond the fortifications of Nashville,
without some token of his thoughtful attention, that, in all probability
he could not remember his own history. Just before we arrived at
Gallatin, however, his useful (if not innocent), existence had come very
near being terminated. He had gone on a scout one night with two men,
and Dr. Robert Williams (who frequently accompanied him upon those
"visits," as he used to term his raids around Nashville, "to the scenes
of his happy childhood)," also went with him. Not far from the city,
they came upon a picket stand, and McCann sent his two men around to get
between the two outpost videttes and the base, intending then to charge
down on them, with the Doctor, and capture them, as he had taken many
such before. The moon was shining brightly, and, as he stole closer than
was prudent upon the videttes, they discovered him and fired. One ball
struck him upon the brass buckle of his saber belt, which happened to be
stout enough to save his life by glancing the ball, but the blow brought
him from his horse and convinced him that a mortal wound was inflicted.

"Dick," said the Doctor, "are you hurt?" "Yes," groaned Dick,
"killed--deader than a corpse--shot right through the bowels--Quick,
Bob--pass me the bottle before I die."

Although the men had been accustomed to look forward to the time of
their arrival at Gallatin, as a period when they would enjoy profound
rest, they were not long left quiet after quitting there. General John
C. Breckinridge had just gotten to Murfreesboro' with a small force. He
was desirous of impressing the enemy at Nashville with an exaggerated
idea of his streng