o be a farm hand; said his employer had a mountain
farm not far away, where he pastured cattle; that a two-year-old
steer had strayed away, and he was looking for him. His clothes
were fearfully torn by brush and briars. His hands and face were
scratched by thorns. He had taken off his boots to relieve his
swollen feet, and was carrying them in his hands. Imitating the
language and manners of an uneducated West Virginian, he asked the
sentinel if he 'had seed anything of a red steer.' The sentinel
had not. After continuing the conversation for a time he finally
said: 'Well, I must be a-going, it is a-gettin' late and I'm durned
feared I won't get back to the farm afore night. Good-day.' 'Hold
on,' said the sentinel; 'better go and see the Captain.' 'O, no,
don't want to trouble him, it is not likely he has seed the steer,
and it's a-gettin' late.' 'Come right along,' replied the sentinel,
bringing down his gun; 'the Captain will not mind being troubled;
in fact, I am instructed to take such as you to him.'"( 5)

The boots were discovered by the keen instinct of the inquiring
Yankee to be too neatly made and elegant for a Western Virginian
mountaineer employed at twelve dollars a month in caring for cattle
in the hackings. When asked the price paid for the boots, the
answer was fifteen dollars. The suspect was a highly educated
gentleman, wholly incapable of acting his assumed character. He
had touched the higher education and civilization of men of learning,
and his tongue could not be attuned to lie and deceive in the guise
of one to the manor born. Though at first Captain Cunard hesitated,
he told the gentleman he would take him for further examination to
camp. Finding the Captain, in his almost timid native modesty,
was nevertheless obdurate, the now prisoner, knowing hope of escape
was gone, declared himself to be Captain Julius A. De Lagnel, late
commander of the Confederates in the battle of Rich Mountain, where
he was reported killed. His tell-tale boots were made in Washington.
He was severely wounded July 11th, and had succeeded in reaching
a friendly secluded house near the battle-field, where he remained
and was cared for until his wound healed and he was able to travel.
He had been in the mountains five days and four nights, and just
as he was passing the last and most advanced Union picket he was
taken.

His little stock of provisions, consisting of a small sack of
biscuits, was about ex