all night in the direction of Nashville, and meeting with no further adventure until soon after sunrise, when one of them espied a moving object in their front, at a considerable distance. A second glance revealed it to be a “butternut,” with gun in hand, who at that instant glided behind a tree and took deliberate aim at them. Our scouts, who were also in butternut, were not taken aback. Keeping on at an easy horse walk, and apparently noticing no one, one of them begins to sing, in a brisk, cheery voice, a verse of the “Dixie” song, ending-
In a Southern land I'll take my stand,As they neared the butternut, he was observed to lower his gun and emerge from behind the tree. When abreast, he accosted the twain:-- “Halloo, boys! Which way?” “All right!-taking a little scout this morning,” was the answer. The “butternut,” who was a rebel scout or guerilla, was now near them, unsuspecting, and inclined to be inquisitive and sociable, his gun over his shoulder. But our men were in haste, and had a vivid remembrance of that previous moment when he had drawn a bead on them, in such a cold-blooded manner, from behind the tree. One of them draws his revolver as quick as thought and shoots him dead; and again they ride forward briskly for a while, and eventually reach the Federal lines near Nashville in safety, but through dangers to be feared upon every hand, from behind each tree, or rock, or bush — as they were traversing debatable land, between two great contending armies, and known to be swarming
And live and die in Dixie, etc.