clear water we will stop and have a drink.”  Then I said:  “Mr. Smith will look for me to-night, but he wont see me.  I am going to tell the madam that Boss is captured.”  “Hey, ho!” he said, “then you are running away.”  I replied:  “Well I know Miss Sarah don’t know Boss is in prison.”  We traveled on, all three of us, stopping at intervals to be refreshed.  After two days, we arrived at Panola.  Our journey was a tedious one.  The streams were so swollen in places that we could hardly pass.  The Tallehatchie we had to swim, and one of the men came near losing his horse and his life.  The horses became tangled in a prep vine, as we were nearing the shore at which we aimed, and, the current being very swift, we were carried below the landing place; but, finally, we got safely ashore, McGee landing, and we following.  Reaching Panola, wet and weary, I conveyed to madam the story of her husband’s capture and imprisonment, a rumor of which had already reached her.

The next morning was Christmas, and a number of the family had come to spend it together.  They had heard that McGee was captured and in prison; but, now, as I told them every feature of the affair in detail, they grew excited and talked wildly about it.  Among those who came were Dr. Dandridge and his wife, Blanton McGee and his wife, Tim Oliver and his wife.  All these women were daughters of old Master Jack McGee, and sisters to the madam.  Mrs. Farrington and old lady McGee were already there.  These re-unions on Christmas were a long established custom with them, but the pleasure of this one was sadly marred by the vicissitudes and calamities of the war.  A shadow hung over all the family group.  They asked me many questions about Boss, and, of course, I related all I knew.

After I had been there three days, they started me back with letters for Boss.  When I left it was near night, and I was to stop over at Master Jack’s farm fifteen miles away.  It was expected that I would reach Fryer’s Point on the third morning, thus allowing me three days to go sixty miles; but I could not make much headway, as the roads were so heavy.  The understanding was that I was to deliver the letters to the same gentleman, at Fryer’s, to whom I delivered the others, for forwarding to Boss at Helena.  I was then to go straight to the farm at Boliver, and report to Smith, the overseer.  But after I had got about four miles away, I concluded that I would not go back to the farm, but try to get to the Yankees.  I knew I had disobeyed Smith by going down to the madam’s to tell her about Boss, because he told me not to go when I spoke to him about it.  And now if I went back I feared he would kill me; for I knew there would be no escape for me from being run into the bull ring, and that torture I could not think of enduring.  I, therefore, stopped, and, taking the bridle and saddle from the horse, hid them in the corner of a fence in a cornfield.  Then I went into the woods.  The papers which