A
great giant, a sergeant from the mountain section, who stood six feet,
three inches in his stockings, and as brave as he was big, his face
flushed with excitement, his whole frame trembling with emotion, in
his shirt sleeves and bareheaded, rushed to the middle of the road,
braced himself, as waiting for some desperate shock, and stood like
Horatio Cockles at the Bridge, waving his gun in the air, calling out
in defiant and stentorian voice, "Come on, I'll fight all of you; I'll
fight old Lincoln from here to the sea." Such a laugh as was set up
afterwards, at his expense! The amusing part of it was the parties who
fired the shots at the time the stampeding was going on with us,
were running for dear life's sake across the fields, worse scared, if
possible, than we ourselves. They were three of a scouting party, who
had eluded our pickets, and seeing our good, easy, and indifferent
condition, took it into their heads to have a little amusement at
our expense. But the sound of their guns in the quiet surrounding, no
doubt excited the Yankees as much as it did the Confederates.
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