ed on to the depot, and managed to get
on just as the train was moving out.

It was night, and he dozed in his seat until the train reached
Bridgeport, Ala., when everybody was turned out of the train, and a
general inspection of the passengers made.

"Very sorry for you, sir," said the Lieutenant; "but we can't let you
go on. Your pass is all right up to this point, but the Commandant at
Nashville has no authority here. Orders are very strict against any
more civilians coming to Chattanooga under any pretext. Rations are very
short, and there is danger of their being much shorter, with the rebel
cavalry slashing around everywhere at our cracker-line. We only saved
two bridges to-night by the greatest luck. You'll have to go back to
Nashville by the next train."

"O, Mister Lootenant," pleaded the Deacon, with drops of sweat on his
brow. "Please let me go on. My only son lays there in Chattanooga,
a-dyin' for all I know. He's bin a good soldier. Ask anybody that knows
the 200th Injianny, and they'll tell you that there ain't no better
soldier in the regiment than Corporal Si Klegg. You've a father
yourself. Think how he'd feel if you was layin' in a hospital at the
pint o' death, and him not able to git to you. You'll let me go on, I
know you will. It aint in you to re fuse."

"I feel awful sorry for you sir," said the Lieutenant, much moved. "And
if I had it in my power you should go. But I have got my orders, and I
must obey them. I musn't allow anybody not actually be longing to the
army to pass on across the river on the train."

"I'll walk every step o' the way, if you'll let me go on," said the
Deacon.

"I tell you what you might do," said the Lieutenant suggestively. "It
isn't a great ways over the mountains to Chattanooga. There's a herd
of cattle starting over there. The Lieutenant in charge is a friend
of mine. I'll speak to him to let you go along as a helper. It'll be
something of a walk for you, but it's the best I can do. You'll get in
there some time to-morrow."

"P'int out your friend to me, and let me go as quick as I kin."

"All right," said the Lieutenant in charge of the herd, when the
circumstances were explained to him. "Free passes over my road to
Chattanooga are barred. Everybody has to work his way. But I'll see that
you get there, if Joe Wheeler's cavalry don't interfere. We are going
over in the dark to avoid them. You can put your carpet-bag in that
wagon there. Report to the Herd-B