August 12. Monday.—Showery all day. Sent to Clarksburg H. T. Martin. He will probably be sent to Columbus for safe keeping. I gave him a letter to my brother-in-law to insure him attention there in case he should need. It is impossible to avoid mistakes in these cases. Union men may make charges merely to gratify personal animosity, knowing that in the nature of things a full investigation is impossible.
During Monday night a squad of the Tenth Regiment returned from the Buckhannon road with the body of one of the wild men of the mountains found in this country. He followed their regiment, shooting at them from the hills. They took him in the Bulltown region. He wore neither hat nor shoes, was of gigantic size—weighing two hundred and thirty pounds; had long hooked toes, fitted to climb—a very monster. They probably killed him after taking him prisoner in cold blood—perhaps after a sort of trial. They say he was attempting to escape.
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WESTON, VIRGINIA, August 12, 1861.
DEAR UNCLE:—We are still getting on nicely. We have a good deal more excitement now than usual. Wagon and cattle trains and small parties are fired on by guerrillas from the hills on two of the roads leading from here. Dr. Joe has about eight or ten in charge who have been wounded in this way. Two only have been killed. None in our regiment. The men all laugh at “squirrel guns” and the wounds they make. Several would have been killed if shot in the same part by the conical balls of our military guns. The “deadly rifle” of olden times shoots too small a bullet, and is too short in its range; but as Cassio says, it is often “sufficient.” We send out parties who bring in prisoners— sometimes the right men, sometimes not. All this keeps up a stir. In a week or two we shall get up a regular system of scouring the country to get rid of these rascals. The Union men here hate and fear them more than our men.
The threatened invasion by Lee from eastern Virginia hangs fire. They will hardly venture in, unless they come in a few days, as we are daily getting stronger. I hope you are still getting better.
Good-bye,
R. B. HAYES.
S. BIRCHARD.
