“You see, Gin’ral, last night some sogers come and tuk my ox-chains,—­two on ’em,—­all I’ve got,—­and I can’t buy no more in these war-times.  I can’t do any work without them chains; they’d ‘a’ better uv tuk my teams with ’em, too.”

“How much were your ox-chains worth,” said the General, laughing.

“Waal now,” answered the fat one, moderating her tone, “they’re wuth a good deal jes’ now.  The war has made such things dreffle deah.  The big one wus the best I ever see; bought it last yeah, up at Hinman’s store in Bolivar; that chain was wuth—­waal now—­Ho, Jim! ho, Dick! come y’ere!  Gin’ral Freemount wants to know how much them ox-chains wus wath.”

A lazy negro and a lazier white man, the latter whittling a piece of cedar, walked slowly from the house to the road, and, leaning against the fence, began in drawling tones to discuss the value of the ox-chains, how much they cost, how much it would take to buy new ones in these times.  One thought “may-be four dollars wud do,” but the other was sure they could not be bought for less than five.  There was no promise of a decision, and the black pacer was floundering about in a perfect agony of fear.  At last the General drew out a gold eagle and gave it to the woman, asking,—­

“Is that enough?”

She took the money with a ludicrous expression of joy and astonishment at the rare sight, but exclaimed,—­

“Lor’ bless me! it’s too much, Gin’ral!  I don’t want more nor my rights.  It’s too much.”

But the General spurred by her, and we followed, leaving the “Union” shouting after us, “It’s too much!  It’s more nor I expected!” She must have received an impression of the simplicity and promptitude of the quartermaster’s department which the experience of those who have had more to do with it will hardly sustain.

Our road was filled with teams belonging to Sigel’s train, and the dust was very oppressive.  At length it became so distressing to our animals that the General permitted us to separate from him and break up into small parties.  I made the rest of the journey in company with Colonel Eaton.  Our road lay through the most picturesque region we had seen.  The Ozark Mountains filled the southern horizon, and ranges of hills swept along our flanks.  The broad prairies, covered with tall grass waving and rustling in the light breeze, were succeeded by patches of woods, through which the road passed, winding among picturesque hills covered with golden forests and inlaid with the silver of swift-running crystal streams.

As we came near the town, we saw many evidences of the rapid march Sigel had made.  We passed large numbers of stragglers.  Some were limping along, weary and foot-sore, others were lying by the road-side, and every farmhouse was filled with exhausted men.  A mile or two from Springfield we overtook the Cadets.  They had marched thirty miles since morning, and had halted beside a brook to wash themselves.  As we approached, Colonel Marshall dressed the ranks, the colors were flung out, the music struck up, and the Cadets marched into Springfield in as good order as if they had just left camp.