I did not halt. Capture was becoming a hideous affair in June, 1863. I
passed across the head of the column at full speed, followed by
bullets; struck into a bridle-path on the right, and pushed ahead,
hotly pursued.

They had followed me nearly half a mile, firing on me, and ordering me
to halt, when suddenly a sonorous "Halt!" resounded fifty yards in
front of me; and a moment afterward, a carbine ball passed through my
riding cape.

I drove on at full speed, convinced that these in front were friends;
and the chest of my horse struck violently against that of another in
the darkness.

"Halt, or you are dead!" came in the same commanding voice.

Another flash of lightning showed me a squadron of _gray_ cavalry: at
their head rode a cavalier, well mounted; it was his horse against
which I had struck, and he held a cocked pistol to my breast.

The lightning left nothing in doubt. Gray and blue quickly recognized
each other. The blue cavalry had drawn rein, and, at that moment, the
leader of the grays shouted--"Charge!" A rush of hoofs, and then a
quick clash of sabres followed. The adversaries had hurled together.
The wood suddenly became the scene of a violent combat.

It was a rough affair. For ten minutes the result was doubtful. The
Federal cavalry were apparently commanded by an officer of excellent
nerve, and he fought his men obstinately. For nearly a quarter of an
hour the wood was full of sabre-strokes, carbine-shots, and yells,