166 HENRY HILL GOODELL 



cold chill running up and down the small of my back, as I 

 felt sure that some unlawful hand was tampering with my 

 burden. With the coming of the dawn, I breathed more 

 freely, but the day seemed interminable, and it became a 

 very burden to live. Twice we broke down, and tying up 

 to a friendly tree repaired the damage. Night came again, 

 and found us still miles away from our destination. It was 

 horrible. I walked the deck — drank coffee — pinched my- 

 self — ran pins into my legs. "Oh, if I can only keep 

 awake!" I kept repeating to myself. But at two o'clock in 

 the morning we broke down again, with the prospect of being 

 detained some hours. I knew that, if I did not reach Brashear 

 City by seven o'clock, I should be another dreary day on 

 the way, and lose my connections with the single train for 

 New Orleans. Time was an element of importance, for I 

 should lose the mail steamer for New York and be delayed 

 in my return to the regiment, which I had left in the heart 

 of Louisiana, marching onward — I knew not where, but 

 with faces set towards the North. 



Finding that we were distant from eight to twelve miles 

 across country, according to the different estimates, I deter- 

 mined to make the attempt to reach it on foot. Any danger, 

 anything seemed preferable to staying on the boat. With 

 the first breaking of the dawn, when I could get my bear- 

 ings, I slung myself ashore. A private in my regiment, 

 discharged for disability, begged to accompany me. With 

 weapons ready for instant use, we pushed along, afraid of 

 our own shadows, looking for a lurking foe behind every 

 bush; and when some startled bird suddenly broke from its 

 covert, the heart of one, at least, stood still for a moment, 

 and then throbbed away like a steam-engine. If a man was 



