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A WAR MEMORY OF BUSHWHACKERS. For some time before the battle of Pilot Knob our community was so alarmed at reports of the conduct of Price's men and their war on defenseless citizens, not only taking every good horse they found, but making prisoners of all the men of military age. Most of our people were in the thickets not daring to come home but supplied with food by women, old man and boys. Our good horses were also hidden in the woods. My father and myself had not been active partisans and calculated that we were safe at home for this reason and we knew we were more comfortable. The next morning after the battle of Pilot Knob we were runnin' a sugar cane mill near the house, when about 10 o'clock we were called on by nine of "Pap" Price's followers who were scattered over the entire county in small bands and all headed for Potosi. Our visitors soon had the old horse loose from the cane mill and galloped around the field with him. They returned to us and said they were going to take the horse but first wanted dinner for the crowd and feed for their horses. They made me acquainted with the rather unpleasant fact that I had to go with them. To this I made no objection, but did some quiet thinking. I ostensibly got on term of good natured familiarity taking quite an interest in where they had been and what they had seen. Having the welfare of "Old John" in mind I proposed to get them a much better mount from the nearby woods if they would release the old horse. At first they objected, thinking this to be a plan to get away. So I told the officer that if he thought I was not telling the truth to send a man with me. He then said go but come back pretty d---d quick. In half an hour I was back with a horse and secured the release of "Old John." While they were feeding the horses from our barn I told them I would dig some taters from the garden if they would trust me that far. They agreed. Going in at the front door and out at the back, I did not so much as look at the tater patch but made my way into the woods. After creeping through the brush for a distance I had to cross an opening and I made a 2:40 gait in 20 minutes. I reached a high open place from which I could see the house and from this safe distance I watched the house until I saw the raiders leave. As soon as the coast was clear I hastened back to find that they had raised Cain when they found that I had dodged them, and had made awful threats of what they would do if they were attacked on the way to Potosi. It was then about 2 o'clock and I was as hungry as a bear and was preparing to make a frugal meal from the scraps left when another bunch rode up and accosted me thus: "Any of our men been here?" "Yes" I said. "Did they take anything?" "Yes, my mare and all my clothes except what I have on." "You may be glad they didn't take you" "Got any coffee?" "No" "Got any milk?" "No" "Well I reckon you've got water?" "Yes sir plenty" I said and after drinking they departed. Going to the window I saw another squad coming and they were the hardest looking crowd of all. When they turned in at the gate I thought I recognized some of the first outfit. I dived into the cellar where I remained in a very undignified position until they left. When the coast was clear I came out and partook of a well relished supper. This ended a stirring day for me a mere boy and I was glad I was alive and not a prisoner in the hands of an irresponsible mob. BONNE TERRE REGISTER, Bonne Terre, St. Francois County, Missouri, December 17, 1915.
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