We scampered through the wet underbrush and grass of the woods, every step being a slosh to the shoe-tops, while every bush dashed against our already well-soaked clothes all the water it had gathered in its leaves and branches from the rain of the night.

Early morning is the safest time for a scout to do his traveling, and we went straight along unimpeded, save by the wet undergrowth, and the disagreeable necessity of clambering over slimy old logs and fences, reaching the place where our pickets should have been while it was yet quite early. Here we made a mistake. Instead of attempting to pass back through our lines, as we had escaped out in the early evening previous, we thought that, being so tired, and wet, hungry, and so generally used-up, we might just as well approach boldly and surrender to our own pickets, knowing that we should be all right when once within our lines and our story of Johnston's retreat was told.

My companion being a member of a regiment that had performed picket duty, had some practical experience with the boys, and was, in consequence, quite uncertain as to the manner in which our flag-of-truce would be received by the men on guard; he said that, while on that duty himself, his instructions were to "fire at anything he saw moving, no matter what it was," and he was apprehensive the members of his own regiment would immediately bang away at us if we made an appearance out there.

"But, we will show them a flag-of-truce."

"Oh, that's nothing; there's some fellows in my company crazy to shoot at something, and they don't know a white from a black flag."

As it was daylight, there was no other way to get in, except by laying over in the woods till night, and this we couldn't think of doing in our miserable condition; beside this, we were hungry.

Feeling it to be a duty to risk even a fire from our own green pickets, to get in quickly with our information for General Patterson, I concluded to try the flag-of-truce project. Looking carefully about to see that we were not liable to an attack in the rear while making this advance, I picked up a stick in the woods, and tied to it, in the form of a flag, an exceedingly dirty, white handkerchief, and, after all was ready, with my hat in one hand, the flag well advanced in the other, I started out to make the communication, my comrade keeping close to me, there being no danger of tramping on a hog in broad daylight.

We had scarcely gotten out of the woods when I began waving the old handkerchief so wildly that the stick broke in two, dropping the flag on the ground. I grabbed up the remnant, nervously, for fear they might fire, and again waved it as we moved forward. We saw a commotion among our men--one or two blue coats were running around, as if to report the phenomenon that appeared before them. Walking ahead more rapidly, as we gained confidence from their not shooting at us, we were soon within hailing distance, and walked into their line nervously, and watched a half-dozen fellows clutching muskets which we knew were loaded, and might go off. Suddenly we were surrounded by all the guard who were not on post, who were anxious to see some real live, repentant rebels come into the Union again. That army had not yet seen a Rebel.

What a sorry looking couple we were to be sure. Dirty faces, and bloody heads, smoked about the eyes in a manner to make us ludicrous indeed, our clothes wet, dripping wet; and clinging to our bodies in rags, our tramp through the bushes having almost torn them off us.

The boys were cooking their early camp breakfast; through their kindness we each had some coffee and bread. I am a coffee-drinker now, and am, perhaps, a little cranky on the subject. I buy the best coffee, and have tried every patent coffee-pot that has ever been brought out, but I have not yet been able to find as delicious a cup of the beverage as was given me in a quart tin cup, with brown sugar and no cream, on the banks of the Potomac, in July, 1861.

While we were enjoying the hospitality of the boys, all of whom were greatly amused at our absurd appearance, and interested in our night's adventure, which my companion could not resist the temptation of exaggerating to his friends, the officer of the guard had reported his catch to his colonel, who peremptorily ordered us into his presence.

Without allowing us an opportunity to wash or clean up, we were marched, like two prisoners, between two files of soldiers with fixed bayonets, through several camps, amid the laughter and jeers of the crowds which were attracted by the odd show.

Approaching the Pennsylvania-Dutch Colonel's tent, we were ordered, in a rough, dogmatic way, to make an explanation of our being in the enemy's lines. I was offended at the rude manner of the officer, and my feelings had been sorely wounded by being marched in this humiliating way through his camp; being resentful, I spunkily informed the colonel that I should not report or explain anything to him; that my report would be to _his superior only_--General Patterson.

A crowd had gathered about us, whom the arrogant Colonel had proposed to entertain by an exhibition of his authority and our discomfiture, and my speech so angered him that he was ready to run me through with his sword. He swore in Pennsylvania-Dutch, and again demanded my explanation, which I firmly declined to give.

He was too angry to appeal to my comrade, but, in high military dudgeon, ordered us both to the guard-house, saying to the officer who had brought us there:

"Those two men had been on a drunk, and had been fighting each other, as any fool could see from their black eyes and bloody noses--put them both in the guard-house;" and he did.

There we remained nearly all that day, denied, by the stupidity and offended dignity of the colonel, the permission I begged of being allowed to communicate with General Patterson.

I presume he sincerely believed we had been off on a regular jamboree _en tare_ during the night, but it was a terribly rough joke on me, and the second time during the first four months of the war that I had been held a prisoner by our own officers while engaged in the performance of an exceedingly dangerous duty for the benefit of the Union cause. I again resolved, in my own mind, more firmly than before, that I should never again undertake any secret service.

My interview with General Patterson's Chief-of-staff--Fitz-John Porter--on presentation of my note of introduction from the Secretary of War, had been so unsatisfactory, that I naturally felt some misgivings as to the outcome of a second attempt in the same direction, particularly as this trip had not been authorized, but was, in fact, carried out independently and almost in opposition to the expressed disapproval of headquarters.

I felt, too, that being escorted to the General's presence, between two soldiers from a guard-house, without the opportunity to repair my dress and appearance, would not help the doubting and disdainful Chief-of-staff to a more favorable opinion of myself; and the recommendation the Dutch Colonel would be sure to send along with me would not be likely to create in the minds of the General's advisers a flattering opinion as to the reliability of our story.

I could get no satisfaction from the officers in charge at the guard-house as to our ultimate disposition. In reply to my appeals to be permitted to report to headquarters in person, I was directed to state my case in writing, and it would be forwarded through the regular channels. I knew very well that this circumlocution meant delay--that in this case delays would be dangerous, as any papers filed would have to be inspected by the officer of the guard, the captain, colonel, brigadier and major general, probably requiring a day at each of these headquarters before it would reach the Assistant-adjutant-general at headquarters.

Beside, I had no intention of submitting my special business to an inspection by every officer in camp before it should reach the proper authority, and so informed the officer who had been sent by the Colonel to obtain from me information as to my business with the General.

My comrade had been separated from me early in the day, and sent to his own company in arrest and disgrace; he had probably told his story to his own officers, who, knowing something of the young man, believed him, and in this way my case, which promised to be a lonely imprisonment for some days, was more speedily brought to the General's notice.

The young officer who had been sent to gather from me the account of our trip seemed to be favorably impressed by my urgent prayer to be permitted to report to General Patterson, and kindly offered to do all he could to gratify my desire. It was a long time, however, before I was able to hear from anybody outside of the sentry, who stood guard over me with a loaded musket.

During all those anxiously waiting hours, when I lay in the guard-house, Rebel General J. E. Johnston was rapidly getting further away, or at least making himself more secure with fewer troops in his present position, and I was brutally denied the privilege of informing our headquarters of the facts we had obtained, after a night of hard work, danger and misery combined. At last, about 4 P. M., I was notified to accompany my young officer to headquarters, to report. The young gentleman courteously granted me the privilege of washing and dressing myself up in the best way I could--he generously aiding me by the tender of a collar, brushes, etc. After a long walk, which was quite tiresome after the exercise of the night previous in the rain, we reached headquarters, where I was met at once by General Porter, who politely enough heard my story through, questioning me closely as to several points in a manner which, I augured, showed some interest in the work we had undertaken.

With a simple word of thanks he was ready to dismiss me, and the subject, as a matter of no consequence, when I ventured to ask his opinion as to the value of our researches.

"Well," he replied, "as I told you previously, the General does not place any reliance upon information of this character; we have had conflicting reports, and do not rely upon it."

"But," I said, "it is undoubtedly true that there are no rebels near us."

"But we have _reliable_ information to the contrary, and more recent than yours."

This was indeed a stunner. How could it be. I was positive there had been no enemy near during the night, and mildly suggested that, if there were any Rebels there, they had come while I was confined in the Dutch Colonel's guard-house.

Porter merely laughed in a patronizing way, as he dismissed me, saying:

"You can make that report to Washington; it won't do here. We know all about Johnston."

"Well, one thing is sure, Johnston knows all about you, too."

I left headquarters in a frame of mind closely allied to frenzy. I was beginning to think that I must be crazy, because the general headquarter's atmosphere and style seemed to have about it an air of authority that could not be disputed; and when Porter said he had information, _reliable and more recent_ than I had tried to give I began to feel that he _must_ be right, and we all wrong.

Walking off, dejectedly, but again free to go as I pleased, I hunted up my companion of the night before, to offer any assistance in my power to secure his release from confinement. I found his company, and had a general consultation with him, in the presence of some line officers, in which it was agreed that our report of the situation was generally believed throughout the army; but, said my comrade:

"There were two other fellows out last night, and they came back right after we did, and reported that they had found a big Fort on top of a hill; that there were camp fires blazing all around it, and six men jumped up on the works and chased them two miles."

It flashed upon me in a moment, and I said, laughingly:

"Why they must be the two fellows we saw while in the Fort, and that you scared off when you got up on that log."

After a further comparison of notes, it was agreed by all that this was the more _reliable_ and recent information General Porter had obtained.

Our little smoky fire had been magnified into a hundred rebel camp fires, and the blunder of my comrade in mounting the parapet had turned to our benefit, in frightening off two of our own scouts. We were not aware, however, that we had chased them through the wet woods--it being our purpose and intent to run away from them; and we believed we were going in an opposite direction all the time.

I was abundantly satisfied with the night and day's experience; and leaving my friend to make any further explanations to General Porter, or headquarters, I availed myself of the opportunity to take an evening train, which carried me to Chambersburg, where among relatives and friends I was able to replenish my scanty wardrobe.

The following Sunday, First Bull Run was _fought_ and _lost_.

There have been many reasons given the public, officially and otherwise, in explanation of this disaster, one of which has not been officially mentioned, and is in brief--that General Patterson, through his Chief-of-staff, persistently declined to avail himself of information concerning Johnston's movements, that had been voluntarily obtained, after some hardships, by a scout, who had been endorsed to him by the Secretary of War as being reliable and trustworthy.

I have not seen General Fitz-John Porter since July, 1861, that I know of. We all know he was a gallant soldier, whom I should honor as a native of my own state; but, without questioning his loyalty, I venture the opinion that General Patterson (who was 69 years old at that time) was by his (Porter's) influence or over-caution prevented from pressing General Johnston, as he had been ordered; and is, therefore, indirectly, responsible for Johnston's timely reinforcement of Beauregard, which made the rebel victory possible.

And I believe the same over-caution or influence was brought to bear on General McClellan at the critical hour at Antietam, and prevented his following up the victory at that time.

CHAPTER IX.

REPORTING TO GENERAL BANKS' HEADQUARTERS FOR DUTY--THE LIFE OF JEFF DAVIS THREATENED--CAPTURED AT HARPER'S FERRY--INTERESTING PERSONAL LETTERS CORROBORATING THE SUPPOSED DEATH OF THE "BOY SPY."

The Sunday of July, 1861 (21st), on which the first battle of Bull Run was being fought, found me quietly recruiting from the tiresome adventure in Virginia in the quiet little hamlet of Pennsylvania, in which I was born, situated at the foot of the Cove Mountain, almost within hearing of the cannon.

I had gathered from General Porter's manner as well as from his words, while talking to me only a day previous, that a battle was not imminent, and this opinion was seemingly confirmed by my own observations both in the Rebel country and while coming through General Patterson's army.