Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-06-04
A Desperate Struggle.

''Halt Who goes there ?" shouted
a long, lank, Confederate soldier, sitting
upon a sorrel horse, toying with q
double-barreled shotgun, the favorite
weapon of the western bushwhacker in
the early war time. He was the picket
guarding the camp of Dick Mccain,
one of the most daring of the Confeder-
ate cavalrymen. The bivouac rested in
the security of his vigilance in a piece
of woods mile or so to the left of the
turnpike leading from Gallatin to Nash
vile, Tenn. The picket stood where
the country road which led past Nc
Cams camp made its junction with the
turnpike. He evidently challenged the
cavalry approaching from the direction
of Gallatin as matter of form, for rs
the officer approached him IN response
to his command, "Advance and give the
countersign," his shotgun lay upon his
lap, across the pommel of his saddle,
while he was paying more attention to
his comrade who was coming up the
wagon road with two chickens in one
hand, the plumber of an unofficial forage,
and an unrul1 horse in the other, than
he did in the officer responding to his
challenge. The Federal soldier got
within a few feet of him before he
seemed to recognize the possibility of
an enemy being nearer than Nashville.
The dress first attracted his attention,
for he saw that it was not that of a
Confederate, and hurriedly bringing his
shotgun to bear upon the officer, he
commenced
'Halt What regiment do you belong
TOP"
ITO the Fourth Michigan Cavalry,
replied the officer.
Covering the officer with his shotgun
as he passed around to surrender him.
self, the Confederate again commanded,
"Give me your arms p
The officer, who wore heavy over
coat with long cape, dropped the reins
upon his horses neck, pushed his hand
under his overcoat to unbuckle his sabre
and comply with the demand.
The Federal soldiers horse being thus
left at liberty crowded against that of
the Confederate, and believing his game
was already in hand, he laid his shot
gun down across his saddle to receive
the arms of his captive. Hardly had he
done this before the Federal soldier saw
his opportunity, and, throwing his left
hand quickly under the cover of his
cape, struck the muzzle of his shotgun
and knocked it to the ground, and with
the same movement caught the Confed-
crate by his long, flowing hair, pulled
his head upon his breast, whipped his
revolver from its pouch, placed it against
his body and fired. The hammer of the
revolver caught in the fold of the long
cape which hung from the Confederate's
shoulders and did not explode. He drew
it back, raised the hammer again, and
made another attempt to secure the
Confederate. This time 1t got between
his body and arm, and although it did
not miss fire, the Confederate was unin-
jured, and in the tussle escaped. All
this was the work of minute, for the
officer had shouted to his command,
forward y the moment he had Crap
pied with one of McCann's private sol
diers. But, by the time it had arrived,
the soldier was going down the road at
break-neck speed, while his comrade
with the two chickens for the mornings
breakfast had mounted his horse and
was following him hurriedly. The little
command passed on to Nashville rs
rapidly as possible, without stopping to
do more than to pick up the soldiers
shotgun to send home as a souvenir of
the escapade.