An hour later they all mounted and rode again toward
Nashville. Near night they boldly entered a small village and bought
food. The inhabitants were all strongly Southern, but villagers love
to talk, and they learned there in a manner admitting of no doubt, that
the Confederate army was retreating southward from the line of the
Cumberland, that the state capital had been abandoned, and that to the
eastward of them the Union army, under Buell, was advancing swiftly on
Nashville.
"At least we accomplished our mission," said Colonel Winchester with
some return of cheerfulness. "We have discovered the retreat of General
Johnston's whole army, and the abandonment of Nashville, invaluable
information to General Grant. But we'll press on toward Nashville
nevertheless."
They camped the next night in a forest and kept a most vigilant watch.
If those terrible raiders led by Forrest should strike them again they
could make but little defense.
They came the next morning upon a good road and followed it without
interruption until nearly noon, when they saw the glint of arms across a
wide field. Colonel Winchester drew his little troop back into the edge
of the woods, and put his field glasses to his eyes.
"There are many men, riding along a road parallel to ours," he said.
"They look like an entire regiment, and by all that's lucky, they're in
the uniforms of our own troops. Yes, they're our own men. There can be
no mistake.
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