A ludicrous scene occurred at this time, illustrating the liability
to panic to which even brave men are sometimes subject. While
resting at Murfreesboro, of course we were liable to be overtaken by
Buell's cavalry, and as Colonel Morgan was not a man to be caught
asleep, he kept scouting parties ever on the alert, scouring the
country on different roads for miles in the direction of the Federal
army. I was in command of a squad of eight men, with whom I made a
long and rapid march in the direction of Lebanon, and when returning
by a different route, night overtook us some fifteen miles from
camp. After getting supper at a farm-house, we were again in the
saddle at ten o'clock of a calm, quiet evening, with a dim moon to
light us back to camp. We jogged on unsuspicious of danger, as we
were now on the return from the direction of the Federal cavalry.
Within ten miles of camp, near midnight, we passed through a lane
and were just entering a forest, when we became aware that a cavalry
force was approaching on the same road; but who they were, or how
many, we had no idea. We were not expecting another party of our men
in this direction, and yet they could hardly be Federals, or we
would have heard of them, as we had been near their lines, and among
the friends of the Southern cause.

Acting on the principle that it is safer to ask than to answer
questions in such circumstances, I instantly ordered them to "Halt,"
and asked, "Who comes there?" Their commander was equally
non-committal, and demanded, "Who comes there?"

"If you are friends, advance and give the countersign," said I; but
scarcely was the word uttered when the buckshot from the shot-guns
of the head of the column came whistling past us in dangerous but
not fatal proximity. Thus challenged, I instantly ordered, "Draw