My friend and myself answered, indiscriminately, the questions that were propounded.  Our responses did not always agree.  Possibly we might have done better if only one of us had spoken.

“Come out of that house,” was the first request that was made.

We came out.

“Tell those soldiers to come out.”

“There are no soldiers here,” I responded.

“That’s a d—­d lie.”

“There are none here.”

“Yes, there are,” said the spokesman of the party.  “Some Yankee soldiers came here a little while ago.”

“We have been here only a few minutes.”

“Where did you come from?”

This was what the lawyers call a leading question.  We did not desire to acknowledge we were from Natchez, as that would reveal us at once.  We did not wish to say we were from Shreveport, as it would soon be proved we were not telling the truth.  I replied that we had come from a plantation a few miles below.  Simultaneously my companion said we had just crossed the river.

Here was a lack of corroborative testimony which our captors commented upon, somewhat to our discredit.  So the conversation went on, our answers becoming more confused each time we spoke.  At last the leader of the group dismounted, and prepared to search the house.  He turned us over to the care of his companions, saying, as he did so: 

“If I find any soldiers here, you may shoot these d—­d fellows for lying.”

During all the colloquy we had been carefully covered by the weapons of the group.  We knew no soldiers could be found about the premises, and felt no fear concerning the result of the search.

Just as the leader finished his search, a lieutenant and twenty men rode up.

“Well,” said our captor, “you are saved from shooting.  I will turn you over to the lieutenant.”

I recognized in that individual an officer to whom I had received introduction a day or two before.  The recognition was mutual.

We had fallen into the hands of a scouting party of our own forces.  Each mistook the other for Rebels.  The contemplated shooting was indefinitely postponed.  The lieutenant in command concluded to encamp near us, and we passed the evening in becoming acquainted with each other.

On the following day the scouting party returned to Natchez.  With my two companions I proceeded ten miles further up the river-bank, calling, on the way, at several plantations.  All the inhabitants supposed we were Rebel officers, going to or from Kirby Smith’s department.  At one house we found two old gentlemen indulging in a game of chess.  In response to a comment upon their mode of amusement, one of them said: 

“We play a very slow and cautious game, sir.  Such a game as the Confederacy ought to play at this time.”

To this I assented.

“How did you cross the river, gentlemen?” was the first interrogatory.