From this point the party made their way back to my
camp, traveling only at night, hiding in the woods by day, and for
food depending on loyal citizens that Card had become acquainted with
when preaching and peddling.
Card's first inquiry after relating his story was for the youngest
brother, whom he had left with me. I told him what I had done, in my
anxiety about himself, and that more than sufficient time had elapsed
for his brother's return. His reply was: "They have caught him. The
poor fellow is dead." His surmise proved correct; for news soon came
that the poor boy had been captured at his father's house, and
hanged. The blow to Card was a severe one, and so hardened his heart
against the guerrillas in the neighborhood of his father's home--for
he knew they were guilty of his brother's murder--that it was with
difficulty I could persuade him to continue in the employment of the
Government, so determined was he to avenge his brother's death at the
first opportunity. Finally, however, I succeeded in quieting the
almost uncontrollable rage that seemed to possess him, and he
remained with me during the Tullahoma and Chickamauga campaigns; but
when we reached Knoxville the next winter, he took his departure,
informing me that he was going for the bushwhackers who had killed
his brother.
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