d go, and as my natural inclination was to save those
horses that had been placed in my charge, of course I interpreted the
bugle call to mean for us to get out of there honorably, and as the only
way to get out honorably was to get out quick, we got up and dusted. The
colonel always gave me credit for being a good debater, and he smiled
and said that as no damage had been done, he would not insist that I be
shot on the spot, but he felt that an example should be made of me. He
said I would be under arrest until bed time, down under a tree, half a
mile or so from headquarters, in plain sight, and he would send music
teachers there to teach me the bugle calls. I thanked him, in a few
well chosen remarks, and the guard marched me to the tree, which was the
guard-house. I found another soldier there, under arrest, who had rode
out of the ranks to water his horse, while on the march, against
orders, and a Confederate prisoner that had been captured in the morning
skirmish, a captain of a Virginia regiment. The captain seemed real hurt
at having been captured, and was inclined to be uppish and distant. I
tried two or three times to get him into conversation on some subject
connected with the war, but he wouldn't have it. He evidently looked
upon me as a horse-thief, a deserter, and a bad man, or else a soldier
who had been sent to pump information out of him. I never was let alone
quite as severely as I was by our prisoner, at first. But I went to work
and built a fire, and soon had some coffee boiling, bacon frying, and
sweet potatoes roasting, and when I spread the lay out on the ground,
and said, "Colonel, this is on me. Won't you join me?" I think he was
the most surprised man I ever saw, He had watched every move I made, in
cooking, with a yearning such as is seldom seen, and he probably had
no more idea that he was going to have a mouthful of it, than that he
should fly. His eyes might have been weak, but if he had been a man I
knew well, I should have said there were a couple of tears gathering
in his eyes, and I was quite sure of it when the flood broke over the
eye-lid dam, and rolled down among the underbrush whiskers. He stopped
the flood at once, by an effort of will, though there seemed a something
in his throat when he said, "You don't mean it, do you, kernel?" I told
him of course I meant it, and to slide right up and help himself, and I
speared a great big sweet potato, and some bacon, and placed them on
a big