ugh it could not have been more than a very few minutes.
Between the rumblings of thunder we could hear the low sough and moan
of the wind in the trees outside of the stockade, like the suppressed
wail of human beings in pain; then would come a flare of flickering
lightning through the clouds, like the striking of a match that would
not burn, at which we would flatten out against the fence or on the
ground, with our hearts in our mouths; then, with the darkness, would
come the low roar of distant thunder, like the anathemas of a
disappointed match-striker, and we would desperately renew our efforts
for fear the successful match would be struck before we got away, our
fears being heightened by the evident approach of the worst of the
storm. My similes may not be poetic or grand, but it is a fact that it
seemed to us as if each flash of lightning was an attempt to find us and
each roll of thunder the growls of our captors at the failure.

At last we got through the fence, and at once struck a pace for the
woods, which would have carried us to Iowa in short order if we could
have kept it up.

We had scarcely started before there came what seemed to me to be the
greatest flash of lightning that I had ever seen. For an instant you
could have seen to read in the open spot across which we were making all
the speed of which we were capable, and then came a yell from one of the
guards, the roar of a musket and a rattle of thunder that fairly caused
us to become frantic in our efforts to put a proper distance between
ourselves and that stockade. In the darkness which followed the glare I
plunged head over heels into a small ravine, hugging my bucket of food
desperately, but when I arose and hastened on my ox heart had
disappeared. We had no time to bewail the loss, however, for our danger
of recapture was more serious, and we fairly flew along.

Just what efforts were made to overtake us I do not know, but we finally
reached a place where we could hide and take a breathing spell, and no
sounds of pursuit disturbed us.

After a time the storm passed over and the moon began to peep through
the clouds now and then, when we started again on our journey. The
country was what can be best described as an open-timber country, that
is, timbered thinly without much underbrush. We walked all night,
selecting our course as best as we could, having occasional periods of
partial moonlight, then a cloudy spell, and again a thunderstorm. When