At the first road crossing, the two soldiers thought they saw a large troop of soldiers in the distance, and they galloped ahead of us at full speed; but, on arriving at the spot, they found that what they had thought soldiers were only a herd of cattle.  They rode on to the next crossing, we following as we conveniently could.  Each poor slave was busy with his thoughts and his prayers.  Now and then one would hear a moan or a word from some of the party.  All were scared, even though the soldiers were with us.  We came to the next cross road, and passed that safely.  Our fear was that the McGees might get the neighborhood to join them and pursue us, or send the home guards after us; but Providence was seemingly smiling upon us at last, for no one followed or molested us.  We moved on all night, until we came to a creek, at four o’clock in the morning of Monday.  The banks of the creek were very steep, and as the horses and wagon went down into the stream, the mattress on top of the wagon, upon which my wife and her sister’s children were sitting, was thrown off into the water.  Immediately the horses stopped, and became balky.  It was such a warm night that they did not want to move on out of the water, and would not start, either, until they got ready.  As soon as the soldiers saw the mattress slide off with my wife and the children, one of them plunged into the water with his horse, and, in a minute, brought them all out.  All had a good ducking—­indeed it seemed like a baptism by immersion.  The drenched ones were wrapped in old blankets; and, after an hour’s delay, we were again on our way.  The soldiers said:  “Now we must leave you; the time is coming when we must be in camp for roll call.  If you are not at our camp when roll call is over, we will come back and see about you.”  We gave them each the second ten dollars, as agreed upon, and just as they rode to the top of the hill they left us.  We had a clear sweep from this point, and we came into Senatobia about nine o’clock in the forenoon.  Our two soldier friends, who had brought us out so safely, came out of camp to see us.  They cheered us, and seemed glad that they had rendered us service.  We stopped at the camp until we had dried our clothes and had some breakfast; and, then, we made our way to Memphis.

* * * * *

Out of bondage at last.

My wife and her sister were shoeless, and the latter had no hat on—­she had hurried out of the house in such excitement that she thought of nothing but getting away.  Having to walk some of the way, as all could not ride in the wagon at the same time, we were all tired, dirty and rest-broken, and, on the whole, a pitiful crowd to look at, as we came into the city.  One venerable old man, bent with age, whose ebony face shone with delight, came running out into the road as we appeared, exclaiming:  “Oh! here dey come, God bless ’em!  Poor chil’en! they come fannin.”  We used large palm leaves to fan ourselves with, as we were so warm.  Those nine souls that followed us walked the whole distance, arriving shortly after we did.  Thousands of others, in search of the freedom of which they had so long dreamed, flocked into the city of refuge, some having walked hundreds of miles.