e flanks, and his plunging, with my disabled knee,
delayed me in mounting, and prevented my seeing why the carriages kept
to the grass instead of getting upon the roadway. When I overtook the
guns they had come to a forced halt at the dry ditch, now full of
skulkers, an angle of which cut the way to the bridge. Brief as the
interval had been, not a man of my command was in sight. The lead horse
of the gun team at my side had been shot and was reeling in the harness.
Slipping to the ground, I untoggled one trace at the collar to release
him, and had placed my hand on the other when I heard the demand
"Surrender!" and turning found in my face two big pistols in the hands
of an Alabama colonel. "Give me that sword," said he. I pressed the
clasp and let it fall to the ground, where it remained. The colonel had
taken me by the right arm, and as we turned toward the road I took in
the whole situation at a glance. My chestnut horse and the captain's
bald-faced brown were dashing frantically against the long, swaying gun
teams. By the bridge stood a company of the 61st Alabama Infantry in
butternut suits and slouch-hats, shooting straggling and wounded Zouaves
from a Pennsylvania brigade as they appeared in groups of two or three
on the road in front. The colonel as he handed me over to his men
ordered his troops to take what prisoners they could and to cease
firing. The guns which we were forced to abandon were a bone of
contention until they were secured by the enemy on the third day, at
which time but one of the twenty-four team horses was living.

With a few other prisoners I was led by a short detour through the
woods. In ten minutes we had turned the flank of both armies and reached
the same turnpike in the rear of our enemy. A line of ambulances was
moving back on the road, all filled with wounded, and when we saw a
vacant seat beside a driver I was hoisted up to the place. The boy
driver was in a high state of excitement. He said that two shells had
come flying down this same road, and showed where the trace of the near
mule had been cut by a piece of shell, for which I was directly
responsible.

The field hospital of General Jubal Early's corps was near Locust Grove
Tavern, where the wounded Yankees were in charge of Surgeon Donnelly of
the Pennsylvania Reserves. No guard was established, as no one was
supposed to be in condition to run away. At the end of a week, however,
my leg had greatly improved, although I was s