No rations yet.
Well, says I, this won't do me.

I am going to hunt something to eat, Bragg or no Bragg.

I turned off the road and struck out through the country, but had gone but a short distance before I came across a group of soldiers clambering over something.

It was Tom Tuck with a barrel of sorghum that he had captured from a good Union man.

He was selling it out at five dollars a quart.