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THREE:At the earliest dawn of Sept. 20 they were awake, and after a hasty breakfast moving out the Rossville road for the battlefield. Only an occasional shot from a nervous picket, peering into the deep fog, or angry spatter from a squad of scouting cavalry disturbed the stillness of the beautiful Autumn morning. The bright rays of the level sun were bringing out the rich tints of the maples and dog woods on the mountain-sides in all their gorgeous richness. Nature was smiling so benignantly on every side that it needed the turmoil and rush in the winding roads to remind one that somewhere near men were in bitter contrast with her divine serenity. But the roads were crowded with ammunition and ration wagons pushing out to the front, and with mounted officers and Orderlies making their way as rapidly as possible back and for ward with orders and messages.

THREE:He found room for anger at Shorty that he did not look him up, and satisfy himself as to his condition, and Lieut. Bowersox and the rest seemed selfishly thoughtful of their own safety and neglectful of his.

THREE:"How many men would it kill if they were put one behind another?"

THREE:"Come on, you infernal pack o' white-livered, nigger-stealin', house-robbin', hell-desarvin' hypocrites," he shouted. "I kin lick the hull bilin' o' yo'uns. This is my wounded pardner here, and yo'uns can't have neither me nor him till yo'uns down me, which y' can't do. Come on, y' pigeon-livered cowards."

THREE:"How do you know there are any Yankees out there? I don't believe they have advanced beyond the crest of the hill. I think they are all going down toward Resaca. Haven't you any pickets out there?"