After the usual salutation, the elder of the two said, somewhat
apologetically: "We saw the smoke out here, and thought some one had built
a fire while possum hunting last night, and was afraid it might get into
our fence, which is just through yonder thicket."

We assured him that we would put the fire out carefully when we went away,
which we would do as soon as our chicken was done. I was well aware that
they must know we were Yankees, and feared that our tramp was over for the
present, but anything was better than suspense, and rising to my feet I
said to the old man who stood near me: "Well, sir, I suppose you know
that we are Yankees; now, what do you propose to do with us?"

"Yes," said he, "I know you are Yankees, but you need have no fear of us,
we are Union men."

"How is it, then, that this young man wears the Confederate uniform?"

"Well, sir, to save being conscripted and sent to the field, he joined a
company of home guard, who are nearly all Union men, and by doing so is
kept about here."

I well knew he was telling the truth, and I grasped his hand and shook it
heartily, and while we all sat around the fire, I told them of our
imprisonment and escape, and of our long tramp for freedom. They told us
their names were John Addis and William Addis, father and son, and that
they would do anything they could to assist us.

They went to the house and had some wheat biscuit baked, and some sweet
potatoes roasted for us, the young man promising that if his mother would
consent, he would go with us to our lines; but she was so fearful that he
would be captured and shot as a deserter, that she would not listen to the
proposition for a moment, but sent by him a hearty God-speed to us.

Mr. Addis directed us to his brother in Towns County, Georgia, and said
that he had heard, that the Union forces were in that county a few days
before, and it would be perfectly safe for us to travel in the day time,
passing ourselves for Confederate soldiers on furloughs.

He said that at Walhalla, thirteen miles ahead, they were very vigilant,
and at Tunnel Hill, (nineteen miles) there was a picket station, at a gap
in the mountain, which it would be necessary for us to flank. He gave us
the name of the captain of a company of youths who guarded this pass,
which I carefully noted, and instructed us as well as he could, how to get
around this gap. The young man went with us about two miles, to get us
past the depot without