A half-hour devoted to wringing my clothing and dry-charging my revolver, and we were away.  A brisk canter of a half-hour under the arches of the trees brought us to the river, where it was our ill luck to find a boat and three soldiers of our brigade.  These men had been for several hours concealed in the brush patiently watching the opposite bank in the amiable hope of getting a shot at some unwary Confederate, but had seen none.  For a great distance up and down the stream on the other side, and for at least a mile back from it, extended cornfields.  Beyond the cornfields, on slightly higher ground, was a thin forest, with breaks here and there in its continuity, denoting plantations, probably.  No houses were in sight, and no camps.  We knew that it was the enemy’s ground, but whether his forces were disposed along the slightly higher country bordering the bottom lands, or at strategic points miles back, as ours were, we knew no more than the least curious private in our army.  In any case the river line would naturally be picketed or patrolled.  But the charm of the unknown was upon us:  the mysterious exerted its old-time fascination, beckoning to us from that silent shore so peaceful and dreamy in the beauty of the quiet Sunday morning.  The temptation was strong and we fell.  The soldiers were as eager for the hazard as we, and readily volunteered for the madmen’s enterprise.  Concealing our horses in a cane-brake, we unmoored the boat and rowed across unmolested.

Arrived at a kind of “landing” on the other side, our first care was so to secure the boat under the bank as to favor a hasty re-embarking in case we should be so unfortunate as to incur the natural consequence of our act; then, following an old road through the ranks of standing corn, we moved in force upon the Confederate position, five strong, with an armament of three Springfield rifles and two Colt’s revolvers.  We had not the further advantage of music and banners.  One thing favored the expedition, giving it an apparent assurance of success:  it was well officered—­an officer to each man and a half.

After marching about a mile we came into a neck of woods and crossed an intersecting road which showed no wheel-tracks, but was rich in hoof-prints.  We observed them and kept right on about our business, whatever that may have been.  A few hundred yards farther brought us to a plantation bordering our road upon the right.  The fields, as was the Southern fashion at that period of the war, were uncultivated and overgrown with brambles.  A large white house stood at some little distance from the road; we saw women and children and a few negroes there.  On our left ran the thin forest, pervious to cavalry.  Directly ahead an ascent in the road formed a crest beyond which we could see nothing.

On this crest suddenly appeared two horsemen in gray, sharply outlined against the sky—­men and animals looking gigantic.  At the same instant a jingling and tramping were audible behind us, and turning in that direction I saw a score of mounted men moving forward at a trot.  In the meantime the giants on the crest had multiplied surprisingly.  Our invasion of the Gulf States had apparently failed.