to tell some
good stories, to keep him from missing my companion, and to allow as
much time for a start as possible, before the inevitable alarm was
given. I succeeded perfectly for some five minutes, when Wells came
in, threw an uneasy glance around the room, and at once exclaimed:

"Sergeant, where is that officer?"

The sergeant protested that he knew nothing about him; that he was not
in the room when he entered.

Wells then turned to me, and demanded:

"Pittenger, where's that officer?"

"What officer?"

"That officer I put in here."

"Oh! that drunken fellow?"

"Yes; where is he?"

"The last I saw of him, he picked up his coat, and said he was going
to supper."[8]

[8] I do not pretend to justify the falsehoods recorded in this book.
But it is better to give a _true_ narrative, and bear the censure
awarded by the reader, than to increase the guilt by omitting or
misrepresenting facts.

"Going to supper, was he! Ho! I see it! Sergeant, run to the guards,
and tell them if they let him out, I will have every one of them hung
up by the heels."

This was rather a useless punishment, considering that the prisoner
was already far away.

But the sergeant departed to muster the guards. Shortly after, Wells,
who had resumed his seat, said in a meditative tone:

"Had he a coat?"

"I suppose so, sir," I returned, "or he would not have taken it."

"Where did he get it?"

"Off the foot of that bed."

Wells sprang to his feet as quickly as though he had been galvanized,
kicking over the chair on which he had been sitting, and exclaimed:

"_My coat!_ sure as----! worth eighty dollars! The villain!" then
pressing his head between his hands, sat down again, but, as if
thinking better of it, ejaculated, "Well, if that ain't a cool joke!"
and burst into a loud laugh, which ended the scene.

There are some facts connected with the Union sentiment in the South,
which I would like to publish, if I dared; but I cannot do it in full,
for it might be the means of exposing persons who befriended us, to
the vengeance of the tyrant rebels. I will only say that there exists
in Atlanta a society of over four hundred members,[9] who are still
devoted to the cause of union and liberty; who endure in patient faith
all the cruel persecutions heaped on them by the slavery-loving
aristocrats who now rule their beautiful land. From members of this
society many prisoners as well as myself, received money and other
needed ar