to a halt by the head of the brigade overtaking those who had
preceded us. Word was brought back that the artillery was finding
great difficulty in getting over the first considerable hill west of
the mountain. We ourselves were upon the downward road from the
mountain crest, but our way led along the side of a spur of the
mountain which towered above us on our left. We were in a dense wood
that shut out the stars, and in darkness that could almost be felt.
I rode back a little to meet Hines and to keep some distance between
the column and his little rear-guard. We sent a chain of sentinels
over the hill commanding the road, and waited, listening for any
evidence that the enemy had discovered our movement and followed. An
hour passed in this way, and the column moved on a short distance.
Again there was a halt, and again a deployment of our sentries. When
at last day broke, we were only three or four miles from our camp of
the evening before; but we had reached a position which was easily
defensible, and where I could halt the brigade and wait for the
others to get entirely out of our way. The men boiled their coffee,
cooked their breakfast, and rested. Early in the forenoon a small
body of the enemy's cavalry followed us, but were contented with
very slight skirmishing, and we marched leisurely to Camp Lookout
before evening. Such night marches from the presence of an enemy are
among the most wearing and trying in the soldier's experience, yet,
in spite of the temptation to invest them with extraordinary peril,
they are rarely interfered with. It is the uncertainty, the
darkness, and the effect of these upon men and officers that make
the duty a delicate one. The risk is more from panic than from the
foe, and the loss is more likely to be in baggage and in wagons than
in men. I have several times been in command of rear-guards on such
occasions, and I believe that I would generally prefer an open
withdrawal by day. It is not hard to hold even a bold enemy at bay