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. A short time after he left me, I saw him at the head of
about thirty well-armed East Tennesseeans--refugees.
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