The _Tribune_, I think, published one of their war maps, in which was located the different Rebel batteries, but in such a mixed-up way that I was unable to understand it myself.

However, it satisfied the people, and for a single day I was a greater hero in New York than Lieutenant Slemmer.

Luckily for me, perhaps, I was anxious to get back home to see my number one girl, and got out of the city before I could be wholly spoiled.

When I got over to Philadelphia, where I had some old railroad friends, upon whom I called for passes home, I was also quite a big fellow among my former railroad associates, and the passes were furnished without a question as to my claims or rights. Fortunately, I survived it all.

I reckon I should have first reported to the War Department, at Washington, but at that particular time I was much more concerned about what No. 1 would think of it all, than I was for the opinion of the War Department, so I first reported to her, and the first words I heard were:

"Why, I thought you were hung!"

What a deadener that was! The word _hung_ fell from her lips into my heart like the dull, sickening thud of the dropping victim from the scaffold. But this isn't to be a love story, so I must pass over some of the most interesting little events in the career I am trying to describe, although they supply the motive for many of the acts and incidents which to all my friends seemed queer.

CHAPTER VII.

REPORTING TO THE SECRETARY OF WAR, AT WASHINGTON--ORDERED ON ANOTHER SCOUT TO VIRGINIA--IN PATTERSON'S ARMY, IN VIRGINIA, BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN.

I was having such a pleasant time at my home and among my young friends, that I took no thought of reporting to the officials of the War Department, at Washington. One day we were advised by the papers that Senator Andy Johnson, the famous Unionist of Tennessee, would pass through our town on his way to the Capital. This was about the time of the outbreak of the reign of terror in East Tennessee, and the sturdy Senator, with many others of the same fearless build, had been forced to flee for his life. But while he was a hunted fugitive when south of the Ohio River, his progress through the loyal States to Washington was a right royal one.

As will be recalled, Mr. Johnson had been my first friend in Washington, and it was through my association with himself and Mr. Covode that I had entered the service.

When the train rolled up to the station, I was the first to board the car, and, in my rather boyish way, pushed unceremoniously through the crowd to where the Senator was holding an impromptu reception. He greeted me very kindly by a hearty shake, as he bade me sit down by him, and as soon as he found an opportunity, in his half-laughing, fatherly way, began to catechize the boy.

As I have previously said, up to the meeting with the Senator, I had been entirely neglectful of my proper duty of reporting to the War Department a formal account of my movements since leaving Washington. I assumed that, in a general way, the newspaper comments, which were quite flattering in the North, would be sufficient.

This fact, with the frank confession that I really felt myself under greater obligations to a little girl, and was more willing to do her bidding than that of the Secretary of War, explains another of my many mistakes during the war.

When I told Senator Johnson that I had not heard from the War Department since leaving Washington in March--it was early in June now--he said at once:

"Why, you had better come right along with me to Washington. You ought to be there now."

Just then the train began to move off; a friend standing near me who had heard the Senator's suggestion, emphatically seconded it, by saying:

"Go on; now is your chance; you might be too late if you wait here longer."

I had no opportunity to say good-by to my folks, my friends, or my sweetheart; but went off as impulsively as before on a scouting campaign that, in effect, lasted until the close of the war.

During that night's railroad ride over the Alleghany Mountains, as I sat alongside Mr. Johnson, as we sped along the Juniata, I told him my story. The Senator was an attentive listener, and, before going to sleep, directed that I should at once put myself in communication with the War Department, and refer the secretary to himself and Mr. Covode.

In those days I did not consider a berth in a sleeping-car a necessary condition for a night's ride, but found an empty seat, curled my five feet six and-a-half inches of body into three and-a-half feet of space, and slept the sound sleep of youth, while the train rapidly rolled through the darkness toward the sunrise and daylight.

On my arrival in Washington, I went directly to the Seventh Avenue Hotel, located at the northeast corner of Seventh and Pennsylvania avenues and Market space. This was Mr. Covode's quarters when in the city.

The clerk directed me to the parlor, where Mr. Covode was at that moment receiving a delegation.

Recognizing me at once, he collared me as a school-master would a truant boy whom he had caught unexpectedly. I was pleasantly hauled across the room and introduced to Mr. John W. Forney, as a "young man from our own State who had been down amongst the Rebels, and they couldn't catch him; and if they had, he wouldn't be here now.--Ha! ha!"

I found myself quite well known in Washington wherever introduced by Mr.

Covode and his friends. It will be remembered that Mr. Forney was then a prominent newspaper man, and no doubt he found in the boy, who had just returned from a trip through Rebel armies, quite an interesting news source for his papers.

I had been compelled to go over my story so much that I really became quite surfeited with the whole business, and was glad enough when evening came, that I could go off alone and have a nice little time around the corner at the "Canterberry." Every old soldier who spent a day or night in Washington will laugh when he reads anything about the "Canterberry." I confess that for a time I became so greatly interested in the famous bouffe singer, Julia Mortimer, that I had nearly forgotten No. 1, and was becoming quite indifferent in regard to my appointment or business with the War Department.

I found that it was about as difficult as before I left the city for Montgomery to obtain a private hearing with the Secretary.

Upon the suggestion of these friends, who had interested themselves in me, I was advised to make my application personally to the Secretary of War for a commission in the regular army; all agreed that this would be about the proper thing to do, it being understood that, in case I should secure this, which would be a permanency, that I could, of course, be detailed in the customary way, on special staff duty, in the field, where there would be opportunity for me to make some use of the information I had obtained of the Southern country and their armies.

With this object in view, I called at the War Department one day in company with Mr. Covode.

Mr. Cameron was, as usual, very busy. There were a great many persons waiting their turn for an audience. Mr. Covode was admitted out of the regular order, because he, being a Congressman, had stated to the attendants, in his positive way, that his business was most urgent, and that he _must_ see the Secretary. Mr. Cameron received us at first rather gruffly, when he learned that the object of this visit was to secure an office; but, upon being reminded of a former appeal and promise, and my recent services being brought to his attention in Mr.

Covode's glowing style, the Secretary turned to me laughing, in his quiet way, and said:

"Well, there's no doubt but that you have the pluck necessary for the army."

Then turning to Mr. Covode, abruptly interrupting him, as if to ask a question:

"We would like to find out just now what the Rebel Johnston is doing down in front of Pennsylvania."

Covode was ready to change the subject, and follow the Secretary's lead, and at once spoke for me:

"Well, here's the boy to find out all about it."

He didn't seem to think it necessary to consult me about the matter at all. Mr. Cameron, looking at me quizzically, said:

"I will have you in mind, and get you _something_ as soon as I can find a suitable place."

Then turning about, as the attendant brought in a message from another urgent Congressman, he said, in an authoritative manner:

"Covode, you go to Army Headquarters and tell them I sent you there with this young man. They can use him to advantage, perhaps. I will see you again."

I wasn't exactly satisfied with this outlook. I had thought that I was through with the spy business, and had no desire to undertake any more lonely and isolated trips through the enemy's country.

Since my return I had found that nearly all the young fellows of my acquaintance were either in the army, or about to enter it, and I had naturally imbibed the military fever which prevailed at this time. I reckon every one of us expected, as a matter of course, to become colonels or generals in short order, for gallant service in front of the enemy, so it was not at all to my liking that I was being steered in the direction of the rear of the Rebel lines again.

In my case, it was a doubly-dangerous undertaking, as I had so recently been well advertised all over the South in their papers, and was, of course, liable to be recognized and hung as a spy if I should be captured any place in their lines. As I walked with Mr. Covode from the old War Department Building I said something to him about my misgivings, but in his hearty way he assured me by saying: "Oh, this isn't going to last long." And then in a confidential manner he said: "Old Simon wants to find out something; you just go ahead and do as he wants you to, and it will be all right."

When we reached Army Headquarters we encountered a sentry on duty at the door--a soldier of the regular army, who did not show Mr. Covode any particular attention, not recognizing a Congressman in his rough exterior. After some dilly-dallying we were admitted to the presence of a military-looking fellow whose name I can not recall. Mr. Covode introduced himself, and presented me as being sent by the Secretary of War. This announcement at once seemed to put the officer in a better humor with himself and his callers. Mr. Covode brusquely stated his business; the officer attentively listened and sharply eyed me while Mr.

Covode went through with his story about my services at Pensacola.

"Does the Secretary want to procure any information as to General Patterson's movements?"

(It will be remembered that at this time General Patterson was being urged by the War Department to make a demonstration on Johnston, to prevent him reinforcing Beauregard at Manassas.)

Mr. Covode answered: "We want all the information we can get from all quarters, and he can get it too."

The officer said, smilingly: "Oh yes, of course; the young man is in the secret service of the War Department."