These samples will answer—­and they are quite fair ones.  Well, this herd of cattle started for the war.  What could you expect of them?  They did as well as they knew how, but really what was justly to be expected of them?  Nothing, I should say.  That is what they did.

We waited for a dark night, for caution and secrecy were necessary; then, toward midnight, we stole in couples and from various directions to the Griffith place, beyond the town; from that point we set out together on foot.  Hannibal lies at the extreme south-eastern corner of Marion County, on the Mississippi River; our objective point was the hamlet of New London, ten miles away, in Ralls County.

The first hour was all fun, all idle nonsense and laughter.  But that could not be kept up.  The steady trudging came to be like work; the play had somehow oozed out of it; the stillness of the woods and the sombreness of the night began to throw a depressing influence over the spirits of the boys, and presently the talking died out and each person shut himself up in his own thoughts.  During the last half of the second hour nobody said a word.

Now we approached a log farm-house where, according to report, there was a guard of five Union soldiers.  Lyman called a halt; and there, in the deep gloom of the overhanging branches, he began to whisper a plan of assault upon that house, which made the gloom more depressing than it was before.  It was a crucial moment; we realised, with a cold suddenness, that here was no jest—­we were standing face to face with actual war.  We were equal to the occasion.  In our response there was no hesitation, no indecision:  we said that if Lyman wanted to meddle with those soldiers, he could go ahead and do it; but if he waited for us to follow him, he would wait a long time.

Lyman urged, pleaded, tried to shame us, but it had no effect.  Our course was plain, our minds were made up:  we would flank the farmhouse —­go out around.  And that is what we did.  We turned the position.

We struck into the woods and entered upon a rough time, stumbling over roots, getting tangled in vines, and torn by briers.  At last we reached an open place in a safe region, and sat down, blown and hot, to cool off and nurse our scratches and bruises.  Lyman was annoyed, but the rest of us were cheerful; we had flanked the farm-house, we had made our first military movement, and it was a success; we had nothing to fret about, we were feeling just the other way.  Horse-play and laughing began again; the expedition was become a holiday frolic once more.